Ramble On
by TesseractChronicles
Summary: Ella thought she was just a grad student and co-owner of a store in Chicago. Until the Winchesters show up- one proves he's just as stubborn as she can be and unlocks a whole new level of adventure and danger, which is surprising as her adopted parents are a former hunter and a voodoo practitioner. (Vision board chapter inspirations in author profile.)
1. Chapter 1: The Battle of Evermore

Chapter 1: The Battle of Evermore

New Orleans - November 1st, 1984

The streets were uncharacteristically quiet for this time at night as rain pattered upon the pavement of Royal Street. The most of the crowd of college students had already made their debauched way back to whatever cheap motel they reserved for the night, leaving only the shadows of the usual vagrants and flashes of light as the restaurants closed their full-length street level windows.

A tall figure huddled over a bundle in his arms; the large pack strapped to their shoulders created a hunchbacked silhouette as they briskly turned down St. Ann Street. Stopping before a small, one story grey house, the figure shifted the weight in its arms and knocked three times in rapid progression before stepping back off of the small, three step stoop. After a short wait, light from inside illuminated the windows and the door opened to reveal a shorter woman with light cafe au lait skin wearing a dressing gown of deep blue. Her eyes widened as she saw who had disturbed her night and she quickly beckoned the figure in- taking time to survey the surrounding street as she closed the door securely behind her.

Once inside, the figure unloaded its pack burden just inside the door, as well as worked to maneuver the large rain slicker off of each arm whilst still holding the bundle in their arms. "Sorry for the water," a smooth Irish brogue whispered as a man with dark copper hair was finally revealed.

"You don't be worryin' about a bit o'rain, cher," the woman said with a chuckle, "I'm feelin' there's a more important reason as to why you are knocking on my door on a Thursday night- All Saints' Night especially- than to damage my floors." The woman ushered the man to her sitting room and gasped as she turned on the table lamp. She quickly made the sign of the cross and got the man settled into a comfortable-looking armchair.

"I can tell by the look on your handsome face that this conversation isn't a good one. You just sit right there for a moment, sugar, and I'll scrounge up some tea and Etienne. He should be here for this, no?"

The man sighed and scraped a hand over his weary face before giving her a worn smile, "You know the way right to my heart, Isa. I could use a warm cuppa right now." He shifted the bundle in his lap and bit his lip for a moment. "Aye, we're gonna need that man of yours tonight. This involves him, too, I fear."

"Eti, I need you in the sitting room, Cian is here." Isa called as she entered her bedroom.

"Cian?" a deep voice rumbled, still heavy with sleep.

"Oui, cher, and he looks like he's just done battle. I've got some refreshment started, but we need you." She opened her armoire and tossed a set of pajamas at the foot of the be as the man flung back the covers. His strong, dark, and completely naked body rose and he began to get dressed.

"You may want to put more on, too, mon coeur," he said with a laugh as she quickly glanced down and blushed at the realization that the satin robe was all she was wearing.

"Oh hush you! You had no complaints at my level of dress earlier tonight." she winked as she redressed into a more modest outfit of a loose cotton dress and appropriate undergarments.

Just as the kettle had its first stirrings of a whistle, Isa and Etienne emerged from bedroom and she quickly took the pot off of the stove. The two worked in a silent dance of coordination as they grabbed cups, plates, and prepared a small tray of food.

"Cian!" Etienne's voice boomed with a trace of his Yorkshire roots as he entered the room, "What brings you back to us tonight? It's been, say, two years? A longer time than I'd wish."

Instantly, the bundle in Cian's lap stirred at the noise and a soft whimper escaped the thick blanket. "Shhhhh, beach mheala," Cian crooned and the bundle soon settled. Isa and Etienne had quietly placed the quick meal on the coffee table and sat themselves on the loveseat as they watched him.

"Cian, what is that?" Isa asked as she pointed towards the bundle, Etienne's face mirrored her question as he stretched his arm around her shoulders, engulfing her slight frame with his massive one.

The Irishman sighed, "It's my greatest treasure-" he moved the blanket back to reveal pale skin and dark hair, "my daughter." Silence spread over the space; the emotions of the occupants clashing with the comfort that the design of the room evoked.

After several minutes where the group drank tea and nibbled on the fruit from the tray, Cian cleared this throat. "I know you are surprised, and if I could apologize for a century for not telling you both, I would. But I couldn't. Not until now, when I need your help."

Isa and Etienne shared a look before nodding to one another. "You'd better start at the beginning, brother. Isa and I have all the time needed for you."

Cian had visibly relaxed at Etienne's use of brother, for that is how each other had been in their hearts. "It started soon after the beginning of the fall semester, two years ago. I had just finished teaching a class on folklore of the British Isles and realized I was hungry. I hopped on the L and soon found myself in a small diner in the South Loop. They had the best pies." He smiled for a moment, "But their food paled in comparison to the staff there, specifically my Elizabeth. Eti, it was like a speck of sunshine had been stolen from the sky and placed in my heart the moment I met her. Remember how you felt when you met Isa? Like that, but so much more."

Isa smiled and nodded, laying her head on her lover's shoulder. "I canna tell you how many burgers I ate; Lizzy said that I must have gone through the entire menu before I asked her on a date. It was perfect; I started to spend my free afternoons there, and then I would take my Lizzy home. After a few months, I came for dinner and she wasn't there. The other girl said that she had called in sick. By that time, she practically lived with me, so I raced home to find her crying in the bedroom, packing her things in a bag. She kept apologizing, saying that she wasn't good enough and that she would be okay on her own. I was right boggled- until my ears heard the word "baby". In that moment, everything changed."

His eyes met Eti's with a fierce look of love. "I couldn't let her leave, so I proposed to her- right on the bedroom floor. I told her nearly everything, Eti. I told her my true name, most of my heritage, and then I promised her my life."

"Cian, you didn't…" Etienne gasped. "You made the Pledge?"

"Aye and the Vow, but I would not allow the Pact. Lizzy knew that I gave my immortality, but she need not know I bound my life to hers or that she could bind her life to mine- it was too dangerous. I do not regret it, until now."

Cian stroked his daughter's hair. "In our time together, before this past month, I was happier than I have been in any of my decades, Eti. My Lizzy made life simple; she loved me as Cian and that was all that was needed. This little one, Tuala, came last August and I wanted to immediately visit you both, but I purposely cut you out; and while I'm so sorry, I have never been more happy of that decision." He took a long drink of his tea.

"I've lost her, my Lizzy. We went to Des Moines to visit her family for the first time, her parents, her sister, and brother-in-law. They were good people, salt of the earth. They accepted me and the little one with open arms; Lizzy's sister took to Tuala as if she were her own. Her husband- well, he seemed more feared than welcoming. After a few days, Tuala's aunt and uncle had to return home; owning your own business means vacations are shorter than preferred. That same night, I awoke to a fire in the house. I grabbed the child whilst Lizzy woke her parents. As Lizzy and her parents went towards the front door, it slammed shut and they died before I could even attempt to free them. The air was thick, Isa, thick with smoke and magic. I'll swear on my life that it was hellfire. If I didn't have this little one to protect, I would have moved heaven and earth to get to Lizzy, but I couldn't keep Tuala safe at the same time. I knew I couldn't return home, so I came straight here. It was pure chance that I had already put a few bags in the car for our return to Chicago that next morning." As if a damn had finally broken, he let out a sob.

"They think we all died; I left the car there, taking only the pack. I've covered tracks as best I can. It's taken me nearly a week to get here. I tried to call Lizzy's sister yesterday, but I got a stranger on the phone, saying she was dead as well. I can feel myself slipping away, Eti. It's taken all of my magic to get myself and Tuala here, but I don't think I'll be around much longer. They are after me- and now her."

His voice grew quiet as he leaned his head back, his only movement a hand softly stroking the dark curls of Tuala's hair. "There's nobody else who I can entrust her with that will love her and protect her as much as I know you two can. I also know that this is more than I should ever have to ask of you, despite our bond as family of the heart. I knew they were lurking, as soon as I made the Pledge and Vow."

Isa's eyes were thick with tears and she held onto Etienne's hand tightly. "Surely we can do something, cher. We won't lose you, too." She jumped up and went to a carved wooden bookshelf, her fingers brushing over the spines as she looked for an appropriate title. Both men followed her with their eyes before returning to stare at one another; a near-silent conversation of 'Isa's going right for the fight again?' 'Of course, brother, it's what she does.' 'It won't work this time, Eti.' passed between the two in their eyes.

Etienne sighed. "Isa, love, sit back down. We can fix this as much as we can when Cian's done." She paused before the shelf, and nodded sadly before sitting again.

"Okay, Cian, tell us you have some plan. Eti and I are here- you know that."

Cian grimaced, "Honestly, Isa, I could only think of getting her to you. I'm sure in the next few days you'll receive a call stating that you have inherited the Chicago house and all that's in it. The money I gathered from teaching at the uni and my items there will be sent to Lizzy's brother-in-law; I wanted them to have something in case something else happened and I couldn't get to you. He could use the money; they own a small business and I know Lizzy said he had a rough time before he met her sister. As for the rest, you know how it's saved and where it is. But that is meaningless without Tuala's safety. If I can't be saved, Isa, I need to know she has you two. You and Eti are the only ones who know it all; the rest are gone."

"Dead?! The family in Ireland? You do not even need to ask if she will be safe with us; you are family Cian. What happened to everyone in Ireland? I know the Troubles have done a lot, but..."

"Shortly after the Vow, I spoke with those that remained. They knew already- when a Garda makes the Vow it is palpable to those who are tuned to it. They were...unhappy that the Pledge was also given, but they canna forbid it. They did not know about Tuala; I planned on visiting in person to do so, but I received a call soon after my talk. There was a breach and many were lost. Those who weren't pulled back beyond the Vale to regroup. Time can be different there; it may be centuries before they return. I canna give her that life, even if I could return to the Vale in time. She deserves to be free and make her own choices. I don't even know the extent of what her abilities would be. I can't remember when a Garda last had a child."

Etienne finally spoke up. "So, you are the last Garda on this plane? This will be bad. There is nothing stopping the Formors now," his deep voice sounding weary. "You think it was them that killed Lizzy and her family? Why go after them, but let you go?"

"I used my powers to hide Tuala and myself once I realized I couldn't go back. I hoped that they thought us dead as well, but then to lose Tuala's aunt- that means they're searching. Thankfully, I don't think that the Fomóraiġ connected me to you two. Distancing myself since the others passed to the Vale should have worked. Again, I'm sorry that I had to."

"We knew that something was up when all we got was a cheap Christmas card thanking us for our donation to your department at the university. Isa said she had a feeling that you had your reasons. You are already forgiven, Cian. In our lives, we understand completely. Now, you know that we shall do all that we can- but do you have any ideas on what we shall need to do to keep you and this little one safe? Our home is yours, but you know that already."

"I know that I'm dying. Isa, there is nothing that you can do to stop it. My life was tied to Lizzy's, as it should be. To keep Tuala safe, I need you to adopt her, give her a family and love. I also need you to help me bind her power." At this last request, Cian's jaw set, knowing that what he was asking was going against all that they stood for. To bind a being's power was the not only strip away a part of them, but to also remove their ability to protect themselves magically.

The three adults sat silently, weighing the request in their minds. Etienne finally spoke, "If we do this, Cian- bind her, we cannot make it permanent. That is something that no innocent deserves."

"What if we tie it to an event that would make sure that she'd be protected?" Isa's eyes sparkled, "What if she met her soulmate?"

"Isa, my dear, you always want the romance. You know that it's highly unlikely to occur in this lifetime. An anam cara is a rare thing." Cian looked down at the baby girl in his lap. "Her anam cara may not even be one who can keep her safe. That's what is important. Only you or Etienne should have the ability to unbind her, it is safer that way."

"Then, I shall just have to add some hope into the mix, non? Come, let's prepare. It would be best done whilst she sleeps." Isa rose and guided them into another room off of the sitting space. Etienne and Isa both grabbed items, setting various bowls on a table in front of a small altar. Cian sat in a small folding chair near the table, quietly considering their task.

"Isa, can we ensure that she'll remain safely bound until ready?" he asked suddenly, biting his lip again as he was wont to do when stressed.

"Cher, we can try our best; that's the only permanent guarantee we have in life. You know that. This little one will be well loved under this roof, and Eti and I will protect her as our own. That I can also guarantee. Now, let's begin before we chicken out. It's not often that we have to mix my voodoo and Eti's hoodoo- the results can be powerful and scary." Etienne stepped back and watched in his normal wonderment as his wife began her ritual. She chanted her words and plucked a perfect, white feather from a bowl, binding it to a lock of dark hair that she had clipped from the babe's head.

Etienne eventually went to the table and hummed as he prepared items in a bowl. He offered his bowl to Isa, who placed her gris-gris in and continued to lowly call her loas. He grew silent as he approached the small girl, and placed his thumb in the bowl, coating it with a thick, black liquid. As he pressed his thumb to the skin just behind her ear, he began to chant- over and over words of binding and protection. A golden aura covered the girl and soon dulled upon her skin as Etienne removed his thumb. The three adults took in a deep breath as they saw five little dots of a quincunx remain where Etienne's thumb had lain. "I take it that it worked." Etienne stated, his voice laced with tiredness after the ritual.

The group returned to the sitting room as the sun beginning to turn the sky into a light shade of pink. "Cian, take the guest room and rest while you can. Your little one will be up soon enough. Eti and I will go to the store as soon as it opens to get things for her, if you make a list." As Cian tiredly scrawled out items like diapers and baby food, he made a move to reach for the pack near the door. "Don't you even think of paying us, cher. You know we don't need that." Isa scolded as she slipped the young girl from her father's arms, tucking her into the bed. "Little cherie here is quite the sleeper. She's barely woken up this whole time."

"She's exhausted. We managed to get to a safehouse the second night so I could get documents together, but since then we've been travelling hard." He handed the paper to Isa before settling himself on the bed next to her. "She's so strong, even at a young age. Just like her mother, this one."

Isa left the two and quietly closed the door. She found her partner in their bedroom, getting dressed into clothes more fitting for public view. "Marie Isadore Ladeau, my love, are you sure you're up for this? It will be hard; having a toddler and an infant." Etienne placed his large hand on her stomach, her bump just barely peeking. "He's your family, Eti. Our family. As long as I have you here, all will be well. We will have to tell him soon, though. And argue down his guilt even more, I assume. For now, let's get some supplies so we can hurry back and get some sleep ourselves, oui?"

As the two returned from their short trip, the house was still and quiet. Etienne began to put away their provisions as Isa moved to check on their guests. As her hand touched the handle, a bright green light escaped around the doorframe, causing Isa to shout. Etienne came running to the room and both took a breath before swinging the door wide open. Before them, surrounded in mist sat the young girl, eyes bleary and blinking at them. Next to her, a piece of paper lay. Isa sat next to the girl, as Etienne took the paper in shaking hands and read:

 _"_ _My dearest friends,_

 _I knew my time was closer than we thought, and I shall be eternally sorry that we did not have more time to spend together. I felt the pull of Tir na nog and could hold off no more. Everything that you may need is in that pack; one day she may have need of the Library, but only if she's ready. I'll leave that to you to decide. Again, I canna thank you enough for giving her the gift of a family; the same as we have done for each other. I leave her future in your hands with full trust and love._

 _Forever,_

 _Cian mac Ogma"_

By the time Etienne was through, Isa had the child in her lap, stroking her head with calming movements. She watched as he went to the pack and opened it, a leather cahier falling loose from its confine. Etienne opened it and perused the papers inside. "He always was clean with his preparations. We have a birth certificate and adoption papers for an Ella Whitney. As well as her real information, and…" he dug into the pack again, "an album. This must be his Lizzy."

Etienne's voice cracked as he set the remaining things down and moved to the bed. "Hello, my Ella. I'm going to be your Uncle E." He took the little girl from Isa and placed her in his lap, wrapping his arms around both of the girls in the room. "Tante Isa and I are going to love you; in fact we already do." After that pronouncement, all Ella did was sit in these strangers' arms, quietly playing with the bangles on Isa's arm as the two adults cried together.

 **Well, that's the first chapter in a story that hasn't gotten out of my head in months. Forgive me for any inaccuracies or offense taken at my liberal interpretation of practices by these amazing religions/folk magics. I honestly had a dream about this and I'm trying to remain true to the dream, but also not blatantly inaccurate as well.**

 **Also, I write on my own time; do not expect regular updates. I have a full time job, a life, two hairless cats, and chronic illness that all fight for my time. This is also my first fiction story that I have ever written- I'm more used to research papers from grad school, so the style is harder for me to get used to. Practice makes better, right?**


	2. Chapter 2: Travelling Riverside Blues

**Chapter 2: Travelling Riverside Blues**

 **Assumption Parish, Louisiana - October 2nd, 2005**

The man drummed his fingers in an awkward staccato as he drove down Route 90 towards New Orleans. While this wasn't his first solo hunt, somehow when his father sent him off, there was a feeling that a torch was being passed, or some rite of passage was taking place. Try as he might, he couldn't help the feeling of insecurity that nagged at his brain, as if there was a test and he wouldn't be able to measure up.

Shaking his head and realizing that the radio station must have switched from classic rock to some sort of '30s band music, he quickly pushed in the cassette that was dangling out of the player and took a calming breath as the first chords of Enter Sandman vibrated through the seats. He saw a sign for an upcoming restaurant, and quickly exited, thinking that a burger and a cold one would get him in the mindset needed today- the more bacon, the better.

After his quick repast, he decided that his baby needed a bit of a meal as well and pulled to a rickety gas station. Starting the pump, and inspecting his black beauty, his concentration was disturbed by a raspy voice.

"You one of them, business-type men, tryin' to buy up our houses afore people can get back to them?" the voice was soon followed by the appearance of a rail thin black man in ragged overalls and thin cotton shirt. His sunken eyes were shaded with wariness. "Not many 'round here are back yet, but I keep tellin' mens like you that we don't need none of yah. They'll be back. This is home, this here."

Dean stood up quickly, the scuff on the car forgotten. "Uh, no sir. Just passin' through. Was it bad in this area? I was in Colorado when the hurricane hit. I'm just checking in on a friend of a friend since I was nearby. It's my first time here."

The man slowly smiled, his teeth telling a tale from decades of smoking. "This is a strange place, sir. There's a reason only certains of us call is home, and why only certains of us stay for generations. We've learned to respect theys spirits, the ones dat don't…" the man shrugged and eyed Dean carefully. "But I can tell you can feel it. Just remember, boy- respect it. You don't want dem angry wit you."

Dean kept his face as neutral as he could be, it never did well for a hunter to reveal themselves- so his father said. "That's good advice, sir. Thanks." He quickly jiggled the pump handle before returning it to its stand. He pulled out a twenty dollar bill, but paused and instead retrieved a fifty. "Uh here, you can...keep the change. For the advice you gave. Maybe I'll see you around." Not willing to wait for a reply, Dean turned heel as soon as the money was in the man's hand and he had the car started nearly before the door was closed again.

The man gave a raspy laugh and as the Impala pulled away, for one brief moment the driver's eyes met his own in the sideview mirror. He gave Dean a knowing smile and nod, before he shuffled his way back to the storefront. He placed the money in an old cash box attached to the door, right under a sign that said, "Closed due to hurricane. Take what you need, pay for what you can. Will return in November.", doffed a ragged black tophat, and disappeared into the swamp with only the echo of his laugh remaining.

* * *

Dean continued to check his rearview mirror, all the way to New Orleans. The sun was setting just as he arrived, but his father's directions were direct and exacting enough that Dean had little issue finding the slate colored shotgun house on St. Ann Street. Checking the time, he parked the Impala near the house, but kept walking past towards Royal Street. Passing some revelers in costume, Dean gave the women his signature smirk of appreciation, already planning on extending his stay for at least a night so he could let his 'bon temps rouler' a bit as well. He spun around to continue his look of appreciation, and started to smoothly walk backwards.

His swagger was cut short by the thwack of his head on a large, wooden shingle sign. "Son of a…" he muttered as he massaged the quickly-forming lump on his head. He angrily glared at the thick piece of oak, exhaling shortly as he realized that the sign's design denoting "Voodoo Supply" meant that he had reached his destination.

As he entered the store, his senses were instantly overwhelmed with sights and smells- more than the average person. To the trained eye, they would recognize the carvings on the doorframe as various protection runes and code that meant this place was there to supply more than just a tourist wanting a fake shrunken head for the rearview of their car. There was a scent in the air of sage- an obvious choice for such a store, but also hints of a cleaner, more pure and natural scent that lingered. Dean inhaled slowly and found himself relaxing- highly unusual for the man.

He stepped in farther, and could see one wall completely filled floor to ceiling with shelves containing all sorts of items. Bowls of various makes next to candlesticks made of brass, ceramics, and silver. Neatly folded altar cloths in a rainbow nestled against books. Turning his head, he saw an antique glass counter display, all sorts of spell and gris-gris supplies in baskets and bottles.

His eyes travelled upwards, wanting to inspect the shelves of bottles and apothecary drawers safely behind the counter, but his optical journey ended as he realized that there was someone behind the counter; a lovely lighter-skinned woman who was staring right back at him with a cryptic smile.

"Can I help you, cher?" she drawled out as she lightly tapped her fingers on the counter's wooden frame, "Or are you lost?"

Dean's cheeks tinted as he cleared his throat. "Uh, yes. I'm Dean Winchester- John's son. He sent me here to talk to Ms. Ladeau?" He had no idea why his sentence ended like a question- this woman was staring at him like she could read him on the spot. It was a feeling he did not like. He straightened his stance and walked with mostly false confidence to the counter as the woman took in his movements.

"John did not come himself?" she queried. "It's a shame; it's been too long since dat man has set foot in this city. Then again, for many, it's not a good time to be visitin' here. There's still a lot of work to do after the troubles in August, god rest their souls" she crossed herself quickly.

"No, m'am. My dad needed to work on another...case. He sent me down, but didn't say much, other than a friend of his said you were needing some assistance." Dean raised a single eyebrow and let the question hang for a moment.

The woman sighed. "I hate that I am needin' to be calling others to do this, but sadly I do need the help. My Eti is in Chicago wit our girls for a few weeks as they finish up da store there, and I can't do this myself." She shook her head. "The storm did more than wreak havoc upon the living, cher. Those who were dead are mightily disturbed, too. This seems to have created an opportunity for those who with black hearts to...I'm not sure the word to use- practice?"

"What are you saying, m'am, what are they practicing?" Dean asked, not heavily intrigued.

She scowled as she looked to the ceiling. "I believe that there is at least one here to has decided that since the dead are already disturbed, that they might as well come back to life, too."

"Zombies?! Oh, this is so friggen cool!" Dean exclaimed, but quickly composed himself as he saw her icy stare. "Uh, sorry. You were saying?"

"We have to figure out who is responsible for dis. I do not think that this is the work of a bokor; they raise the dead with intention and to do menial tasks. What I saw the other day was more wild; uncontrolled." She smiled as she saw how Dean was trying to ascertain what the meaning of bokor was. "Where are you staying tonight, Dean Winchester?"

He rapidly blinked several times. "Oh, uh, I was going to hit up a hotel after we finish our conversation here. It looks like I have some reading to do."

"Never you worry 'bout a hotel if you are helping me. You will stay at my home. It's well-protected, has me to get you learned about da tings you may need to know to find dis person, and I have a large pot of gumbo waiting to be served in a crock pot. You can't say no, cher." She skirted around the counter and moved to close the shutters on either side of the door frame, before closing and locking the old wooden door with a loud click. "Follow me," she commanded and walked through a beaded doorway, not even allowing Dean to protest her offer. "Come on, cher!" she yelled as she dimmed the store lights.

Dean shrugged and followed the woman, surprised that the back side of the shop seemed to house a large set of rooms: an obvious storeroom, a small lounge, a library, and what appeared to be a ritual room. He paused and stuck his head inside.

"Before you ask: no. I don't kill anything larger than a chicken, and I only seek to heal and allow da loas to use me as their voice when they feel the need. You have nothing to fear from me, cher. I think that you would agree that John wouldn't have offered me you as aid if the situation were different, no?" she took the sleeve of his leather jacket and tugged. "Come now."

Dean followed her lead, distracted by thoughts of what his father's history here may have been and if the woman's words were true. Of course John would be very discerning of those he could consider allies; but to John Winchester, there was a large difference between ally and friend that was able to be trusted. Dean just didn't know what category this Ms. Ladeau fit into just yet.

The woman entered a seemingly private alleyway, securing the door after Dean exited. Dean found himself pleasantly surprised that they did not even leave this route before stopping at a gate that opened up a small, but heavily planted backyard.

"This is quite handy, Ms. Ladeau," he stated as a comment to the fact that they could traverse to her house without actually going onto a street.

She merely smirked, "Oui, cher. It's been helpful a time or two. And since you are now my guest, I must demand that you call me Isa."

"Isa? I thought that your name was Marie?" Dean hesitated after entering the yard.

"There has been a Marie Ladeau every generation for over a hundred and fifty years. My full name is Marie Isadore Ladeau. Using middle names helps with the confusion." Her eyes sparkled with unspent laughter. "You can trust me, Dean Winchester. I hold no grudge, large or small, against you or your father- something that's rare amongst those who know him, oui?"

"Well, if I wasn't sure before, then I am now that you know my father." Dean quipped as he traipsed to a large wrought iron shelf overflowing with plants. "You've quite the collection here. Monkshood, belladonna, wormwood, and I'm not sure about these others."

"That's my Ella. She's got a special gift for making things thrive. Besides, isn't locally-grown better? Dat way, I know where my supplies come from." She nodded her head to a small greenhouse shed, the dim lights in the yard revealing bunches upon bunches of herbs drying in the rafters, and a setup similar to behind her counter, with bottles and drawers along one wall. "It's rare now that I have to spend time searching for a plant- it makes life easier dis way. Come inside, you look hungry, cher." She drew out an old iron key and turned it into the door. Several clicks could be heard in succession, drawing Dean's curious attention. Isa merely winked and entered the now-open doorway.

After a delicious meal, Isa sat Dean down in her parlor and they started to talk. She realized that his knowledge of her craft was poor at best, and proceeded to give him as much basic knowledge as she could in a night. Dean had rarely focused so intently, trying to soak up information; it was as if this woman truly cared more that he was prepared and comfortable in general than if they had enough to go off of in order to quickly dispatch the source of the zombies- a feeling he was hardly used to. He was soaking up her care and attention, but eventually the chiming of a clock made them start, and Isa noted the late hour.

"We can talk more tomorrow, cher. The more you know, the better you will be in the future. Now, you go and get your things from that beauty of a car you drive and then I'll show you your room."

Dean hurried to comply, surprised at his own eagerness to make Isa happy. She had a natural mothering feel- something that he missed. He did a quick once-over of the Impala as he grabbed his duffel from the trunk and briskly walked back to the house's front stoop.

"I'm going to set you up in my Ella's space, if that's alright. Rory's room is a bit...chaotic." Isa chuckled as she began to lead Dean down a hallway.

"Oh, Ms. Isa, I can just bunk on a couch or the floor. I don't need to put anyone out." Dean was unused to such hospitality, and that rug in the parlor seemed mighty plush.

Isa quickly turned. "Dean, my girls have been up in Chicago for three years now. You aren't putting anyone out. That bed won't be used by anyone if you don't sleep there tonight. Now, come, and stop feeling like a burden. You insult my southern hospitality, cher."

He blushed and followed. They came to wooden door that was beautifully carved at the corners and Isa ushered him into a room that was bursting with color. Dark peacock green walls contrasted with goldenrod curtains and a comfortable bed covered with a rich, sapphire red coverlet. The oak furniture's patina glowed with use and care whilst more plants occupied a shelf along the wall as well as a small bookshelf. Pictures in various silver frames lined a vanity dresser, and the thickness of the navy rug competed heavily with the rug in the parlor that Dean had previously eyed as a resting space. The room instantly struck Dean as energetic, yet comforting, and the smell he had previously noticed in the store surrounded him like a soft cloak.

"This room is far nicer than I deserve," Dean said as he carefully placed his bag on the vanity bench. "You're sure?"

"Trust me, my Ella would have it no other way." Isa walked to the vanity and picked up a frame that showed two young women, one pale with dark auburn hair and another with skin like that of Isa's- a light, luminous brown, with gorgeous natural curls. "Deese are my girls. Ella," she tapped the pale girl's face then the other's, "And Aurore. Ella went to north for school, and Rory had to follow. As different as night and day, but inseparable. They just opened a store of their own up in Chicago. My Etienne is helping dem right now." She pointed farther down at what seemed to be a family picture.

Dean stood puzzled as he realized that the if the woman was Ella's mother, then this man was most definitely not her father. "That's your husband?" he questioned as he looked back at the close-up photo of the women.

Isa chuckled, already knowing his question. "Ella is the daughter of our heart. She was a gift, given to us, and we adopted her. Don't go thinking that I'm some lady of the evening now, Dean Winchester."

Dean sputtered and shook his head at her teasing, "No, m'am. I-I would never…"

She winked and raised her hand to stop him. "I know; it was merely a joke. My husband says he laughs every time that same look gets onto people's faces." She sighed and stroked the picture of the two women, "I miss them so, but dey must go on their own for now. Ella is almost done with school, but they both felt that Chicago needed them for the time being. Anyways, the bathroom is through dat door- it's connected to Rory's room on the other side. Towels are under the sink. Feel free to use anything in there, cher. I'll have a full N'awlins breakfast ready when you wake."

Dean bid her goodnight and began to unpack his duffel. He took out his toiletry bag and stepped into the bathroom. He chuckled when he saw that one half of the sink's vanity was perfectly neat and stocked with what looked like bottles of homemade lotions, bath gels, and bars of homemade soap. The other half- it was a large basket that seemed to be a melange of jewelry, hair products and what appeared to be at least half a dozen bottles of various of Bath and Body Works products. Dean easily guessed the owner of each side and placed his bag next to Ella's items.

He readied himself for a shower and stepped under the strong, hot spray with a satisfied groan. After quickly shampooing his hair, he realized that he had forgotten the bar of soap he kept in his duffel. Noting the bar of handmade soap in the shower caddy, he shrugged and picked up it, jolting as he realized the smell he had begun to enjoy was emanating from the bar. _Lemon, rosemary, mint, and tea leaves?_ His last guess was due to the golden tan of the bar. He closed his eyes as he rubbed the lather onto his body, and wasn't very surprised to find himself already highly aroused as his hand dipped lower. He couldn't deny that pale skin, dark hair, and strong sea-colored eyes came to his mind as he allowed himself a quick release.

The next few days followed in a relative pattern of learning from Isa whilst she minded the shop mixed with investigating areas where activity was noted. Dean was beginning to understand the strength of Isa's reputation, as mentioning working with a Laveau turned closed-off New Orleans natives into vaults of information- but despite all of the given knowledge, no headway was made in this hunt. Each night ended with a shower- though the Irish Spring stayed in the duffle- and each night Dean fell asleep whilst staring at the pictures on the vanity.


	3. Chapter 3: Communication Breakdown

Chapter 3: Communication Breakdown

New Orleans, Louisiana - October, 2005

Weeks, it had been weeks of interviews, searching, training, and delicious meals...but no strong end in sight to this case. Dean sighed as he shut his phone, beginning to become frustrated that the Winchester he kept trying to call again had not answered. Slipping his phone into his pocket and slapping another to check for his keys, he exited the small cafe and entered the now familiar voodoo shop next door.

Green eyes quickly focused on Isa, who was in deep conversation with a man Dean didn't recognize- however from his stance and the poorly concealed weapon at his side, Dean knew he was an officer of some sort. Ready to use his authentically fake credentials that never left the interior pocket of his jacket, Dean slowly made his way to the cashier counter, poorly pretending to be shopping around. Isa's eyes traveled towards the young Winchester on several occasions, but Dean missed the amused shake of her head and nod to the other man as he grabbed a random candle to "purchase". Dean brought the item up to the two, grabbing not his wallet, but his leather bound credentials instead, setting it down so that his ID was visible as he "searched" for his money.

"One moment, Jean, it appears that this man is impatient to get his candle." Isa's face never betrayed her mirth, except for a quick wink to the officer. "Now, cher, you do know that that candle can't help you get a woman, right? It can only help you to make a baby once you have a willing lady to help you."

Dean sputtered and quickly reached for the green and red column of wax, knocking it over in the process. "No, no. That's not what I'm looking for." His face was even turning a slight shade of puce at the thought. "No babies in my future. Excuse me." He quickly turned and set the candle in its normal spot, attempting to wipe off any residue that could have transferred to his hands onto his jeans.

"You know, Dean, you could just come over and say hello. Jean, dis is Dean Winchester. He's here for the same reasons you are. Dean, Jean Houot, a detective with the N'awlins PD, but his mami and I used to be close friends in the craft. She used to help me make candles, like that protection one you just had in your hand." Isa finally gave in to a chuckle, and Detective Houot joined in.

Dean let out a breath and smirked in concession at Isa's prank as he extended his hand. "Detective Houot, it's a rare pleasure."

"I bet it is- not many hunters enjoy those of us with the real badges, though I'd suggest not trying to be so subtle in the future, most FBI agents are taught to not use tactics like that any more. Only take it out if necessary, or if you want to forgo conversation altogether." Houot took the fake credential from the counter and looked at it closely, "This is pretty good, but Thomas Shaw?"

Dean cleared his throat, "Tommy Shaw sang for Styx and wrote Renegade." He looked up and smirked at Houot's approving nod. "So, what reasons brought you here, detective?"

Houot's face and stance slipped backed into officer mode. "We've had another body found, but this time there seems to be evidence of ritual work on the skin, according to the coroner. What is tricky, and what I have to try to explain away as some weird grave digging incident is that the victim, Roger Lawson, had already died two weeks ago and had been buried. My problem with my explanation is that I have video footage of Mr. Lawson breaking into a local museum last night and attempting to steal an artifact piece before collapsing close to the entrance, where he was found early this morning by custodial staff. I was just asking Auntie Isadore if she would mind accompanying me to look at some of the markings and items we found on Mr. Lawson."

"And just as you walked in, I was telling Jean about you and your hunting, cher." Isa said as she locked her cash register with a small skeleton key and grabbed her large woven bag. "Come, let us go see dis- I'm curious to see if we can tell what is going on," she commanded as she ushered the men out of the store, flipping the sign to CLOSED and locking the shutters in front of the closed door.

* * *

Once at the morgue, the body was pulled from the cooling cabinet and excuses were made to ensure the deputy coroner had other places to be, Isa closed her eyes and said a quick prayer before pulling back the white sheet. All three sucked in a breath as the man's chest was covered in white, ashy symbols. "This is more than I expected." Houot stated as he picked up one of Lawson's arms, noting that there seemed to be marks running down the bicep and forearm.

"Dis is not good, Jean. Not good at all. But there is something familiar about this style- I can't quite see it. You said there were items too?" Isa asked as her gaze went towards a bag resting upon the dead man's legs. With Houot's nod, she opened the bag and drew out a fist-sized leather sack attached to a long leather cord. Carefully, she opened the top, splaying the contents out. "Oh, no...no," she sighed, "I know this here. And so should you." Her brown eyes were sad as she regarded the detective and then picked up what appeared to be a small bundle of knotted strings. Isa motioned Dean closer and then began to slowly unwork the colorful knotted string.

"Wait!" Jean quickly stated and grabbed a sterile container from a nearby shelf, "In here, Auntie. If it's what you and I think it is, I can get a sample from it." With a sharp clink, a molar fell into the steel basin.

"Would someone mind telling me what this is? I mean, I get it's a tooth, and that's gross in itself. But what's so telling about a tooth and some old string?" Dean looked to the two others expectantly.

Jean slid the tooth carefully into an evidence bag before he replied. "This type of spell was something that my mami developed. To use these colors in this way was her signature - most use a single color…"

"And a bland color at that. Phara, her daddy's family came from da Saltwater Geechee and her momma were Haitian like mine. There's too much color in our cultural blood to ignore, so we use it how we feel is right. Since it still works, dere's not much the others can say- though they'd wanted to for years." She rubbed her face and continued, "Dere's some here who didn't agree wit the two of us making changes. You see, it was my aunt who was de previous Ladeau, and my father, Marc-Pierre, met my mother on a trip to Haiti. He moved there to be with her and, soon after, had me. I was raised in a mix of Haitian Voudou, Afro-Carribean witchcraft, and N'awlins Voodoo, which to the native people here, is an abomination. When my auntie died, my parents and I came here so that we could keep the shop and the tradition going. Phara's momma and mine were like sisters, so I went often as I'd like to Georgia and finally she came here- near the time y'all was born and Jean here only came up to my shoulder. Phara was dey only other one who understood that in blending our blood and cultures, we was making each stronger. It's taken decades, and I have earned the respect I'm now given, but my blood connection to N'awlins made that easier for me than Phara. When she passed, Lord bless her, there were still a few sayin' prayers of thankfulness, the dirty souls." Isa scowled at the memory. "Anyways, this has to be someone tryin' to mock her, or lead us astray."

"Or someone who worked with her," Dean thought out loud. "Do either of you know anyone who would know her work well enough to copy it like this? Other than you both, that is."

"Yes, and we're going to go get them a little visit, if you're up to it, Auntie. Get that badge ready, hunter." Jean carefully replaced the covering on the man and slid the body back into the cabinet before the hotchpotch group left.

* * *

For the first time in his life, Dean Winchester had no qualms about being in the back of a police car. Their trip was surprisingly shorter than Dean had expected, and he was able to easily discern that they were not far from Isa's home. All three approached the deep red door with varying styles of awareness: Jean with a tense alertness and a hand on his gun, Isa with a half-opened eye, trying to use her other senses for feeling, and Dean in a falsely relaxed stance, but with his eyes continuously darting from point to point. As Jean gave the door a loud rap, it opened slowly, with no occupant behind. Drawing his weapon and nodding to Dean to do the same, the two men entered the house with Isa closely behind. The scent of rotting flesh hit their noses, and as they moved into the parlour, it appeared as if there was a body on the floor. Poorly repressing a shudder, Jean knelt down to the man and touched his neck, jumping back when the man's body twitched.

"Shit, he's alive still! Help him while I call for assistance." Jean quickly stood up and stepped out, dialing as he went. Dean and Isa both quickly knelt and as Dean helped to roll the man over, it was apparent that he was not long for this world. Putrid liquid oozed from cuts in his legs and torso, telling the duo that the man had been injured days before.

"Isa…" the man rasped, "So sorry... forgive my son…his mind was weak."

"Vital did dis? To you, Timoteo?!" Isa questioned as she grasped his pale and clammy hand. Whist Timoteo remained silent, his answer was clear. "Why? To what purpose?" she pressed. Timoteo shook and took in an agonal breath, "Power, too much power. Stop him...basement…forgive…" With that final word, Timoteo shook no more. Isa let out a slow breath, releasing his hand and carefully closing his eyes. She bent forward, singing a chant softly as Dean walked to Jean, tapping at the detective's shoulder to indicate that it was too late. Jean relayed the information and requested that the coroner be sent, hung up and looked to Dean. "Did he say anything helpful?"

Dean paused, then started and grabbed his gun before walking towards a hallway in the back. "Actually, yes. He said 'basement', right before he passed. We need to go, before your friends arrive." Jean nodded and followed, readying his own weapon. The men walked softly through the house, checking rooms and finally arriving at the run-down kitchen, a large wooden door on an interior wall was tightly closed. Dean walked towards it and tested the handle, eyebrows lifting as he found it unlocked and the door easily swinging open. Jean entered first, slowly descending as Dean followed a few steps behind. Both instantly froze as the clanging of metal was heard somewhere below, and the sounds of busywork maintained as they moved again and reached the basement floor. It was dim inside the musty space, but a small sliver of light through cracked plaster walls created an easy location target and the men made their way to the door in said wall.

Jean and Dean looked to one another, as if attempting to converse about next steps before Dean shrugged and suddenly kicked at the rickety hollow door, causing it to nearly rip from its old hinges. There was a loud crash as bowls from a table went flying and a sickly-thin man spun about; paint and dried blood smeared in morbid design about his limbs. "You cannot kill that which has created immortality," Vital growled, and turned towards the table, reaching for a knife and holding it in the air as if to receive blessing. Before he could do anything else, a loud crack burst through the room and Vital's head knocked back, his body staggering for a moment before crumpling into a pile on the floor.

"Well, I was worth a try," quipped Jean, who was holding a still-smoking gun. Dean looked back and forth between the detective and the pile of Vital, a hand over his aching eardrum, but a look of amused respect on his face. Pounding footsteps were heard on the stairs, and soon Isa came into the room, wilding looking about and beginning to relax when she realized that both Jean and Dean were upright and not bleeding. She sidestepped and saw Vital, her head shaking as she inspected his surroundings. "I had not hoped for this ending, but I assume it was necessity?"

"Yes, ma'am," Dean stated as he walked closer to her, trying to shepard her out of the room. "We should go; Jean's team will be here soon." Dean looked to Jean for confirmation and the detective nodded. "You go'on, Auntie. We can talk tonight. Make something tasty." The attempt at a light-hearted comment feel a bit flat, but Isa gave a soft smile anyway. "Sure thing, cher."

* * *

The short walk home was filled with silence, and once home, the two went wordlessly about their own tasks; Isa changing her kaftan and washing up before quickly moving to the kitchen to release her pent up emotions by cooking a grand meal from scratch. Dean, however, took his time- carefully emptying his pockets and removing his clothes, placing them in a basket for quick washing to get the scent of Timoteo and the basement decay from the fabrics. He realized just how comfortable he had become in the bedroom space as he strode about naked, and reflected that this is what living in a real home would be like- not like a shared hotel room where there was always someone and clothes were always required. How freeing to have your own space; he would miss this house and room greatly.

Stepping into the bathroom, he started the shower and leaned his palms against the countertop as he waited for the telltale steam to fog the glass shower wall. Seeing the neat little basket of this Ella's herbal toiletries next to his own utilitarian bag again reinforced the pang of wishes that he had a place that always held his necessities, even when he was far away. After giving the items a soft brush of his finger, he shook his head- wincing at the pain in his ear- and entered the shower, again letting the blend of smells that he had grown to enjoy surround him as he sought relaxation.

* * *

Clean, well-rested after a nap, and redressed in fresh clothes, Dean followed the delicious scents to the kitchen, nodding at Isa with a smile before passing through to the mud room and starting his load of laundry. It was so nice to be able to wash clothes outside of a laundromat- there was no need to worry about your stuff getting stolen and you weren't wasting your day. He sauntered back to the kitchen and sat at the small breakfast table, watching Isa as she checked a simmering pot and tasted its contents from a weathered wooden spoon.

Soon enough, Isa turned to him and handed him a small bowl, in it a fragrant, moist clod of something wrapped in cheesecloth. "Don't go thinkin' dat I didn't see your ear hurting, Dean. You stick dat poultice right on your ear to help with the ache." She shooed him to hurry with her hand, not satisfied until he was slightly squirming at the sensation of the hot and moist bag against his head. She nodded and sat, regarding the rest of him with a careful eye. "You'll be wantin' to head out in the morning, cher? You know you are welcome to stay."

He hesitated, allowing the temptation of a home to pull at him for a few moments before sighing, "Yeah, I gotta get on the road. Try to catch up with my dad."

"Where is John nowadays?" Isa asked, "I'm surprised he didn't come down with the time it took for us to figure tings out." Dean nodded at her words, "I am, too. I haven't been able to get a hold of him." He pulled out his phone and made a face, realizing that he had a voicemail. "Speak of the devil…" Dean whispered as he pressed in his code and let the message play on speaker. After hearing it twice, he excused himself and went to the bedroom, grabbing the less-used duffel and opening it to grab a small recording device. Just then, there was a strong knock on the house's front door, and Dean set the device and his phone on the vanity, deciding that he could finish this thought later.

As Dean entered the parlor, he realized that the knock had heralded Jean's arrival and the detective was already making himself comfortable at the formal dining table. Seeing Isa haul in the large dutch oven full of jambalaya, Dean moved to take the weight from the woman's arms and was rewarded with a smile before she went to grab the remaining sides. Not good with silences, Dean cleared his throat and sat down as he spoke, "You did really good today, for a blue blood. Didn't even hesitate whenever you saw the crazy."

Jean seemed slightly flattered by the compliment, "My thanks, I would hope that my mami would be proud. She always taught me that there's more to this world than we believe. I think you're right that the others in my team wouldn't fare as well with similar things. Are you going to be stayin' around for a time? Perhaps I can show you that even police who aren't in the know can be good; you could meet some of my friends."

A confident smirk covered Dean's face. "Sorry, Jean, I think it's best if you let me believe that you're unique. I'd hate start to like officers of the law in general- it might get me in trouble one day. Besides, I'll be heading out in the morning." To which Jean rolled his eyes and chuckled, "Suit yourself."

The meal progressed and all parties involved acknowledged their thankfulness that all evidence pointed to Vital working alone. "He wanted so bad to be a bokor, but dis impatience seemed to turn into a desperate want for power. What a shame, for Timoteo and Vital. Though I wonder when Timoteo knew; he would have told me if he could." Isa mused, sadly. "Guessin' by what happened to him, I would say that that is when he found out, Auntie. It's sad, but choices where made." Jean soothed, and the dinner turned into a somber silence as they finished.

Soon after the plates were relegated to the sink and the table cleared, Jean gave Dean one final handshake and made his farewell to Isa. Looking tired, Isa wished Dean a goodnight and retired to bed, leaving Dean to his previous task with his phone. Dean carefully recorded the message and then after adjusting knobs and several playbacks, the faint voice of a female was heard, "I can never go home…"

"Son of a bitch!" Dean exclaimed and rechecked the date of the message, before trying again to call his father, to no avail. Knowing that there wasn't anything to do that night, Dean readied himself for one last restless night on the comfortable mattress.

* * *

In the morning, Dean was packed and ready to go, taking his bags with him as he entered the parlor. "Just you wait one minute, cher!" a scolding voice rang from the kitchen. "You ain't leavin' witout breakfast in your belly." Smiling, Dean dropped his gear and went to the kitchen to find Isa finishing a batch of powdery beignets, adding some to a platter on the table and some in a paper bag. "I'm claiming one last meal with you, so sit down."

The two barely spoke over the meal- Isa, because she was pensively watching Dean and Dean because his mouth was continuously stuffed with flaky and delicious fried dough. With the platter empty, he stood and began to clear up. Isa smiled at his helpfulness, and asked, "Now, you'll be a takin' those two bags over there wit you too- no argument. And you'll be giving me a promise to visit and ask for help from us whenever you need. And I mean any of my family, Dean. You're family now, too, and always welcome, cher." She approached him and placed a hand on his cheek. "I mean dis. Don't make me go searchin' for ya. Where are you heading to? To John?"

Dean nodded his assent at her demands. "I promise, m'am. And no, I'm not going to dad...I'm going to get Sammy." Soon after that, the roar of the Impala could be heard from Bourbon Street.


	4. Chapter 4: Night Flight

Chapter 4: Night Flight 

Chicago, Illinois - May, 2006

"Be careful, boys." 

As Sam watched his father's truck fade off in the distance, Dean reached down into his pocket and retrieved his cell phone. Quickly typing, he put the small silver piece to his ear. "Isa? Isa, It's Dean Winchester…..No, things aren't just fine, but I wanted to honor my promise. I'm in Chicago and Sammy and I need a place to crash, get bandaged up, and regroup. Would it be too muc…" Dean quickly drew the phone away from his ear as a loud, irritated Creole voice filled the Impala. "Don't you even worry 'bout inconvenience, cher. I'll be calling my Rory right after I give you the address to their place. Dey's a whole guest space and you two'll be usin' it for as long as you need. It's a brown prairie house with a green tiled roof on Palmer Square; I'll have the girls put the lights on for ya, cher. You got a pen ready?" Sam opened the glove compartment and grabbed a scrap of yellowed paper, nodding. "We're ready." Isa quickly gave them the address with directions and told them to use the alley in the back to park the car in the garage before praising Dean for actually contacting her for help. Blushing, Dean gave his goodbye and hung up, firing up Baby and heading to the highway. 

"Care to tell me where we're going?" Sam asked as he relaxed back into the seat; a small wince escaping. 

"Remember how I said I was coming off of a voodoo gig in New Orleans before going to Stanford? Isa was my host, of sorts. She's good people. We can trust her. Her two daughters live up here. I think one goes to school, but they also own some kind of shop." Dean's tone warranted no further questions, which without a doubt filled his brother's head with every conceivable thing to ask. Choosing to keep the peace, Sam commented after a while, "You don't trust people often- more like never." Dean replied, "I know." and pushed Baby to go even faster.

* * *

While the boulevard was dark upon their arrival, one brown brick building stood out from its neighbors in that every porch light was glowing and a figure sitting upon a porch swing. As the Impala approached, a long, thin arm rose and gave a half wave. Dean returned the gesture and nodded as the woman rose and pointed towards the back of the house. Turning into a sidestreet, then a narrow alley, the Impala easily slid into the open garage door of the carriage house. As the brothers exited the garage door began to close. 

"Dean Winchester, I have heard a lot about you, cher." A young woman stepped closer, though still cautiously. Her waist-length locs swung slightly as she stopped. 'I'm Rory Ladeau." 

Dean gave Rory his most charming smile. "Miss Rory. I've heard much about you as well. Your mom is an amazing woman. Best food I've had in years was when she was cooking it." 

Rory visibly relaxed and laughed. "Well, don't expect too much of the same here. I can't cook for the life of me. With Ella down at her internship, it's going to be take-out and slim pickings until she returns. Come on, you both look like you've had quite the day. Bring your bags." She waited for the men to grab their duffels and escorted them out to the back garden. "This here is Ella's area. If you kill one of her plants, she might find a way to kill you." Sam and Dean both nodded their assent and carefully picked their way across the stone pathway, taking in the sight of abundant plants carefully landscaped as to still look somewhat organically placed. The path led into a glass-enclosed solarium. The scent of more exotic plants hit their noses as Rory led them through to what appeared to be a large hallway with a connecting stairwell. 

"Ella and I actually have separate living spaces, almost like apartments ya see, but we rarely lock our doors. This building was owned by Ella's real father and we converted it to one family building when we came up to Chicago. When he taught here, he rented out part of the building to other faculty." Rory explained as they reached the stairwell. "Ella's space is up top, this floor is mine and you two can stay here." She descended down a set of oak treads to another door. "Don't worry, there's still some windows to escape out of. It's not a dungeon." she joked as she opened the door and entered. 

Sam and Dean's eyes widened when they realized that they were stepping into a furnished space. "I thought we'd be holed up in a dingy hotel." Sam commented as he set his bag upon the coffee table in the living space. The apartment was open concept; the entry and living room connecting flawlessly to the modest kitchen via a six seat dining table. 

Rory yawned slightly as she walked to the kitchen. "We keep things like meats, drinks, and bulk snacks down here- almost like our pantry. Feel free to eat any of it." She opened the fridge to show it neatly stocked with sodas, water bottles, and some beer. "Since it's so late, I'm assuming that you both want to shower and rest and we can actually meet in the morning?" When the brothers nodded their heads, she chuckled and motioned for them to follow her to a small hallway. "On the right are two bedrooms. The left is the bathroom- it has first aid supplies in it- and then the laundry room. Since tomorrow's Sunday, I'll be around so I volunteer to get us all breakfast at 9. If you need anything, just knock on my door." She paused as she started to walk out; "Dean, maman told me that I needed to make sure you were well-stocked, so there's a basket of Ella's special blend in the back bedroom for you." Rory winked and closed the door behind her. 

"Ella's special blend?" Sam asked, turning to his brother and staring before making a break for the back bedroom with a smile, Dean attempting to catch up to prevent Sam's discovery. The two made the doorframe at the same time, preventing neither one from actually entering the space. "Dammit, Sammy!" Dean cursed as Sam used his longer arm to push his brother backwards. He entered the room, and walked to the nightstand where a basket of bathing products were nestled. Picking up a bar, Sam inhaled. "This smell- you used it all the time when we first started hunting together again. I still smell it every now and again at night…"

"Can't a man have something he enjoys? You're okay with your bar of Zest, so back off. It's something with a more natural smell. I just like this scent, okay?" Dean swiped the bar from Sam's fingers and inhaled, his shoulders and body relaxing as he did so. 

"Alright, alright. I'll accept that reason and not push that it's 'Ella's special blend', whatever that means. I'm hitting the shower." Sam left the room and soon the sounds of water hitting tile could be heard. For the first time in several days- weeks even, Dean could allow himself to relax. He made his way back to the living room and retrieved his bag, pausing again to take in the new space. 

"Thank you, Isa," Dean said aloud as he turned, noting that Sam was walking out of the bathroom in boxers, looking clean though still with open wounds. "Let me shower and then we'll patch ourselves up, Sammy." Dean walked straight into the humid bathroom, but before he could close the door, Sam interrupted, "Did you forget your 'special blend'? I didn't see it in your hand," and tossed him a bar before closing the door with a snicker. 

"Asshole," Dean muttered as he got undressed. He looked around for towels and quickly found them in a recessed shelf, but not before also noting a folded bathrobe. "Jackpot!" The shower felt like heaven to Dean, who allowed the hot spray to ease his tense muscles. Reaching for the soap, he sighed in contentment as his body naturally reacted to the scent- just as it had in New Orleans and every other night he used it…

* * *

Dressed only in boxer briefs, a basic white undershirt, and the comfy waffle-woven bathrobe, Dean strolled out into the kitchen like a revitalized man. "Took you long enough," Sam commented through cheeks filled with homemade trail mix. "This stuff is good, Dean. Eat some." After the brothers got their fill, they each took a deep breath knowing that the next job wasn't going to be fun. 

Sam went back to the bathroom and came back with a surprisingly large tote marked with a red cross. "They have everything here, Dean, lidocaine and actual stitching supplies- antibiotics and even major pain meds for Christ's sake! Who are these people to be so prepared?" Dean picked through the supplies and retrieved a line of butterfly bandages. "Isa and her husband, Etienne, used to hunt before they started their family in New Orleans. I'm going out on a limb here, but I don't think their daughters are hunters- though that doesn't mean that they don't stay connected. Isa seemed to still be aware of others in the community. Perhaps they do this all the time with hunters in spots like we are. Now, enough with the questions, let's get you stitched up."

* * *

The next morning, the brothers were awakened with a sharp knock on the door. "Rise and shine, men!" an overtly cheerful Rory shouted as she settled into the plush couch. Both brothers stumbled in, dressed but quite obviously hastily. Rory took in their appearance with a chuckle before jumping up and walking to the door. "Let's get a move on! Pancakes await!"

Rory led the boys on a ten minute walk towards the L station. "I know, it's a hole in the wall restaurant literally under the tracks, but it's clean and has the best pancakes. I always sneak a bite here when Ella's out." 

"Ella seems kinda of Type A," Sam commented, giving his brother a side-eye. Rory twisted about gracefully, her locs swishing, and replied with a snort, "You have my words all wrong, cher, but I see where you might think that based on what I've said about her. It's actually because Ella's a great cook. If I didn't still dance, I'd be fat just from her desserts alone! You haven't met her, but you'll see soon enough what I mean. Ah! Here we are! The Cozy Pancake. Remember guys, this is on me." She popped up the steps and walked in, smiling like a regular would and taking a seat at the corner booth. 

As the brothers followed, Sam spoke out of the side of his mouth, "You haven't met Rory or Ella before? She seems far too comfortable with strangers, and I thought that you and Ella had a..you know…thing." They arrived at the booth before Dean could reply with more than a shrug and a shake of his head, causing his brother to slightly frown- Meg's betrayal the day before was too recent in Sam's mind to accept abnormal kindness from anyone. Sam and Dean seated themselves across from Rory, though anyone could see that the taller of the two sat stiffly. 

Golden eyes assessed Sam as he read through the menu before giving his order to the waitress. "So…" Rory began. ""So?" Dean replied, and he noted that her eyes remained on his brother who sat staring out the window. The woman sat there staring for some time, twirling a rust-colored loc around her finger before continuing. "Why the distrust all of a sudden-like, cher? I'm giving you the benefit of maman's word- even if you did come to my house bloodied from fighting and likely armed to the teeth." Sam jerked his attention towards Rory, his cheeks beginning to flame despite his soured expression.

"I'm sorry...It's just that the last woman to be nice ended up being a demon. A demon who summoned daevas to kill innocent people. I'm sure that you are nice enough, but I…" "Sammy, " Dean warned. Sam sighed and sat back as their food was delivered. 

They ate in silence, each staying comfortable in their own thoughts and wanting the situation to diffuse. "You're right, this was real good." Dean said as he used the last of his coffee to clear out his mouth. He stared at his brother, using the unspoken language of his eyebrow to convey that Sam should be kinder to their host.

"Yeah, it was a better breakfast than any we've had in weeks." Sam said before playing with his coffee cup. "Listen, Rory...I'm sorry. I let my anger towards Meg impact you. I'll try to not let it happen again. If Dean trusts you, I need to try to trust you." As Rory was about to reply, Dean abruptly stood up, "No chick flick moments for me, I'm gonna hit the head."

Rory laughed and waited for Dean to depart before talking. "I get it. Some girl broke your heart. I'll forgive you this time since it seems like it was more than the fact that she just wasn't into you and I'll also tell you a little secret," she leaned in closer, "You don't need to worry 'bout me, cher. You aren't my type. I like my men thicker than you are...and especially my women." Rory winked and sat back, just as Dean returned, messing up Sam's hair with his hand and causing his blushing brother to grumble at him and stand.

* * *

After many hours of respite lounging in the living room of the Rory-proclaimed "Den", the brothers and Rory found themselves around the large island in the kitchen pouring over various newspapers in search of demonic indicators or a new case. "You know, Ella's office has some older books that might help you with that Meg," Rory spoke out of the blue, "I should check on da Seger, too. Come on." 

"What the hell is a seger? We're not talking about my man Bob, are we?" Dean asked and trotted up the steps behind Rory. As Rory entered into Ella's space, the brothers looked about for another person but were met with dark emerald walls, jewel-toned mid century furniture, and plants that sat and hung in front of large, sunny windows. Overall, the suite had a feeling of being organic and colorful, yet clean and welcoming. Dean inhaled deeply while smirking a bit and Sam sat on the couch as Rory appeared to be checking the plants. 

Noticing a music shelf, the older Winchester didn't hesitate to peruse the selections. "Aw man! Zepp, CDB, Skynyrd, Celtic pipes, Tuvan throat singing…" Dean shook his head and continued after Rory added, "For meditation." "She's even got some Metallica, GNR, and here we go, Seger! Good collection!" "I have no idea how Ella got to liking classic rock. Our dad loves British bands and maman loves world music. I'm more fond of things I can dance to, but Ella says she feels this music the most. Go ahead and put something on." 

As Dean stooped down to make his selection, a light weight settled on his shoulder. "What the!" Dean exclaimed and startled, but four pairs of little claws grasped at his flannel. "Seger!" Rory exclaimed. "Ella's cat. Come here!" Dean turned his face to the side and was shocked to realize that instead of fur, he was met with amber eyes and a wrinkled face. "This cat is naked," he stated, though the other occupants in the room were already well aware.

As the cat began to purr and rub its forehead against the day-old scruff of Dean's beard, Sam laughed at the position his brother was in. "He likes ya, Dean." Sam observed while Rory went to retrieve a can of wet food from a nearby cabinet, "Sorry, he's not usually so in-your-face to strangers." As soon as she pried off the lid, the cat jumped down and quickly made his way to the small ceramic dish that was being filled with pureed rabbit. "Hey Dean, you aren't sneezing," Sam observed.

"Well, I'll be damned. I guess this cat is a rare one. Usually I'd be running from the place barely able to catch my breath. Let me start up some tunes." Dean popped in a CD and pressed play. Soon the first chords of "Roll Me Away" were floating through the space. 

"Come on, guys, let's go see about dees books." Rory led them through an arched doorway to a medium-sized office. The walls shifted into a navy color, which was in perfect contrast to the reddish stain of the shelves and the brass reading light. More plants lined the sunny windows. "Before you even ask, the answer is that Ella set up her own watering system. They's no way in Hades that I'd keep these alive when she's gone. Go on and take a seat, let me pull a few books," Rory instructed as she made her way to the shelf furthest from the windows. She grabbed a few dustier tomes and set them on the wooden desk as she went, and after some time she grabbed the small tower and brought it over to the coffee table near the loveseat and recliner occupied by the Winchesters. She stepped around the table and settled herself on the loveseat next to Sam. "These all speak of demons. Some books you may have seen before, but Ella's father was a collector, of sorts. There might be some new things to find." 

The rest of the evening was spent in that small space, Dean's lap getting frequently filled with an attentive cat and Sam having been the one to make a newer discovery that enhanced a devil's trap for wider use. As the streetlights began to glow, Rory declared herself hungry and decided that she was ordering Chinese delivery from her favorite hole-in-the-wall chop suey restaurant just up the street on Diversey. "Don't worry, I'll order tons of potstickers- Mr. Lee makes them by hand every day and they are literally the best!" she then picked up Seger while the boys grabbed the books and headed for the Den.

* * *

Dean looked at the Chinese food with poorly hidden skepticism. "You sure there isn't like a burger place nearby?" he questioned as he looked at the potsticker in front of him, "We don't eat Chinese often." "Dip it in that sauce, close your eyes, and prepare to experience nirvana, Dean," Rory demanded as she watched him do just that. As soon as he started to chew, Dean's eyes popped wide open. "Holy shit, Sammy! These are awesome!" Dean mumbled through full cheeks. "I told you so, cher," Rory replied with a knowing smile, "You gotta learn to just let me take the wheel on ordering food in this part of the city." Dean nodded quickly, his mouth too full to give her a worded promise and the trio ate in silence, too focused on the good food to care for conversation- a total change from breakfast that morning. 

With their stomachs full and at their daily limit for research, they all went to their spaces to shower, relax, and rest. In the early hours of the morning, however, Dean was woken from his usual light sleep by the faint howlings of a cat. Throwing on the robe and treading up the stairs, he was met by Rory at her own door, who quickly scaled up the next flight and entered Ella's space. Following the sorrowful sound, Dean followed Rory through the library to what appeared to be Ella's bedroom. Upon the bed sat Seger, howling.

"Does he always do that?" Dean asked, not sure if he should grab the cat or not. "Never," Rory said as she bit her lip. They watched as the cat moved to the pillows and howled again, before Dean scooped him up and moved the cat's thin legs. "He doesn't seem hurt, but he won't stop howling. You should call your sister."

Rory nodded and grabbed her cell phone from the pocket of her sleep pants. She frowned as she waited for Ella to answer, but got a voicemail message. She entered a new number and again was met with no answer. "Let me try her cell one more time. This isn't like her." Again, there was nothing.

Suddenly, Rory's phone rang. "Maman?...I was already awake. Something's wrong with Seger, he keeps howling...No, she's not answering at the house or her cell...What? What did dey say?...Anything else? Yes, I'll go now...I can ask them...Okay, here's Dean." Rory handed the phone off to Dean as she sped to the kitchen, adding several scoops of dry kibble and water into a dual cat feeder and pulling out a second litter box from a utility cabinet and filling it. As she did so, Dean was making promises to Isa that he and Sam would accompany Rory to Indiana, and asking what Isa had heard. "You heard from your loas that Ella was in trouble?...Did they say anything specific at all?...No? Can you ask for more?...Alright, let us know if you get any more, Isa. We'll help your girls." Dean closed the phone and set the cat down upon the rug in the living room.

"Seger's going to be okay for a few days?" he asked as they descended down to go wake Sam and get ready to leave. "If it's more than a few days, I'll have our sitter visit. Ximena also minds the shop; she can be trusted." Dean nodded at that and after entering the Den shouted out, "Rise and shine, Sammy! We need to hit the road!" waiting to hear Sam's hurried movements before going to his bedroom to change. 

"What's going on?" Sam asked as he emerged from the bedroom just as Dean passed. "Isa called, she thinks Ella's in a bind. I promised we'd go check it out with Rory. There's no answer on any of Ella's numbers." Sam nodded, still shaking off the last vestiges of sleep as they made it to the back solarium where Rory waited with her own duffel bag.

"You car or mine, cher?" she asked as they walked into the carriage house. Dean looked over at the purple PT Cruiser and laughed lightly. "No offense, Rory, but I don't think that Sam would even fit in your little thing. We'll go in my Baby." Rory merely shrugged and took the passenger seat, causing Sam to sit in the back with the duffels. "Let's go get my sister, chers."


	5. Chapter 5: Four Hands

Chapter 5: Four Hands

Dinwiddie, Indiana

As Sam fueled the car at the off-highway truck stop, Dean and Rory walked in for what Dean described as "hunter fare"- jerky and trail mix for Sam, orange Tic Tacs and barbeque potato chips for Dean. Rory surprised him by adding strawberry Mentos, KitKats, and spicy potato fries to the pile.

"What? Ella likes de sweets and I'm feeling de spicy." She shrugged and looked for his reaction. Dean merely smirked and shelled out a twenty dollar bill to the cashier. As they moved to step out of the store, passing a display of cheap stuffed animals, Dean paused in his tracks. "Wait a minute, what about Seger?"

"What about him?" Rory asked as she pushed the door open. Dean followed as he replied, "What if your sister is fine and we just left her cat up in Chicago howling? What if the cat was dying? I've never had a cat; I don't know how those things work, but I'm pretty sure your sister would be upset if her pet died on your watch."

"Technically our watch, cher." Rory said with a chuckle. "And don't worry. Ximena's boyfriend's cousin is a vet tech. I'll ask her to check in on him today. If he's really hurt, then she will make sure he gets care…" she hummed for a moment, "Ya know, now that I think on it, there was a time afore that that cat acted out of normal. Ella was nearly mugged by three men on the Blue Line last year. Nothing deadly, but when we got home from her getting stitched up she realized that Seger had shredded her pillow and knocked over a plant. I'll be damned if that cat doesn't have some sixth sense. I'll have to ask Maman about that later."

Dean slid into the driver's seat. "Nearly mugged? If she needed stitches, I'd say the 'nearly' doesn't qualify." Rory gave him a roll of her eyes and popped a spicy fry in her mouth. "Our papa made sure that we were balanced in the arts. Maman had us choose a fine art- I learned dance, for instance, and we had to choose a martial art. Fortunately, I was able to justify capoeira, which was really just dancing in a different way. Ella...well she's a bit less blessed with graceful movement, so Papa taught her himself."

"What did he teach her?" Sam asked from the back, intrigued.

"Some krav maga, some Irish stick fighting some other things- but none of them would I call grand successes. Our parents had tried to get her to do Irish dancing as well, but the Great Jig Incident ended that pursuit quickly." She laughed at the memory. "Ella was in her first performance of Irish jig, which used a heavy shoe. She had seen us in da crowd and gave us a smile, but immediately lost balance and swung her leg out, causing the shoe to go flying. Gave an old woman a black eye. As for the near mugging, she wasn't cut with a knife, no. After one of the muggers got relieved of their weapon by her kicking, dey started to run. She went to follow, and her coat got caught on the bolt of a steel support which caused her to sharply twist into the beam. Gave herself a concussion and a large cut above her eye. I swear that in the moment, dat girl's got some moves, but it's almost as if as soon as her mind starts to think, she's got the worst luck. That's why we have so many medical supplies at home and why I've had to learn a thing or two about using dem. It's also why she stopped learning to fight and focused on her plants. Safer for everyone that way."

"I've only seen Dean dance once, in Indiana actually. Remember the Truman High homecoming?" Sam got an evil smile on his face, "Dean danced one dance and was so bad that I didn't see him for the rest of the night."

"First of all, you were only there because your drama club nerds needed to attend as a group to protect the herd or some shit like that. Secondly, I left the dance floor because I got an offer to boogie down in the janitor's closet with Amanda." Dean's gaze unfocused for a moment as he smirked, while the others attempted to direct their attention to their snacks. "Truman High, Home of the Bombers!"

* * *

West Lafayette, Indiana

As the trio drove up the hill and began to enter the sleepy college campus, Sam looked about as if he almost missed being surrounded by brick buildings and college students. "You said that Ella has an internship? Don't you both own your store?"

"Well, technically, we both own the store, but dat's not the only passion we have in life, cher. The store is mostly my dream; Ella co-funded the startup costs and only makes batches of soaps and the like as a hobby. Ella is also working towards a master's in anthropology, in an area she calls, 'historical religious semiotics' though I've never been fully sure what dat means. Her first dad was a professor of ancient European history, so she thinks she should be a professor too." Rory shook her head slightly- perhaps she didn't value that dream as much as her sister did. "We should start at Minerva's. Take the next right."

In just a few minutes, they were parking in front of a dark brown mid-century house. Whereas the Chicago house's yard was carefully organized, this was quite the opposite with plants seemingly allowed to grow wildly. The one thing that stuck out against the slightly browning grass was the reflection of the morning sky against the side of a vintage Camaro in the driveway. "Well, hello, beautiful," Dean purred as he walked up to the car, his hand skimming along the blue paint and black stripes along the tail. "Land of Lincoln? This license plate is from Illinois."

"Yeah, that's Ella's car, Marina. Which means she should be here." Rory walked right past, giving the car and Dean little attention as she trotted up the brick walkway to the front door. She knocked loudly several times, her toe tapping a strong staccato on the worn welcome mat.

"Who's Minerva?" Sam asked as he pulled a still-drooling Dean. He reached into his coat pocket and retrieved his leather-wrapped lockpick set. He silently asked for permission to open the door, and Rory nodded, explaining as he started to work. "Minerva's an old faculty friend of her first dad. She can be trusted. She lets Ella stay here when she needs to be on campus for her internship. She's in some other country for some thing this semester." As the door swung open, Rory added, "Minerva's a very...free spirit. Just be prepared."

"I'm always prepared for anyth…" Dean's eyes widened as he walked past the entryway and into the living room. His stare remained on the piece of art above the brick fireplace. "Holy Titanic!" Framed in dusty gold was a large black and white photograph of a naked woman decorated with body paint draped across a leather bench.

"That's Minerva. Obviously, nearly five decades younger, but I wouldn't be shocked in the least if she chose to update it at some point. Follow me." Both boys' eyes slowly drifted along the picture before they continued past a relatively pristine kitchen to an open bedroom door. Dean immediately recognized the fragrance in the space as Ella's and stepped further inside, noting a cobalt blue and black strapless dress that looked like it had been worn draped upon the unused bed next to a satin pyjama set; a pair of black heels kicked off at the bedside. "She must have been here after the dinner."

"Her purse is still here, as is her keys," Sam mentioned as he lifted up the keychain. A small enameled shamrock dangled in the air.

"Not all of them, cher. That's her home set. She had another with a little train on it for her office keys. Ella stays organized in a weirdly specific way." Her eyes misted a little. "Her phone isn't here. Let me try to call her again."

As she did so, all three paused, straining to hear any vibration or noise. Suddenly, Dean walked to the window and placed an ear against it. "It's outside," he exclaimed and they all followed Rory. Instead of turning left to return to the kitchen, she turned right. "Mudroom and back door are thisa ways," she explained as she took another corner, but quickly stopped. Before them, spilled across the tile was a trail of spilled salt, red powder, and branches of rosemary- all leading to a still open door.

"Oh, no, no, no, no," Rory chanted to herself as she knelt down to touch the black powder. "Red brick dust. Protection." Dean stepped past her to search the backyard. While the organic chaos of plant life from the front yard obviously matched the back, it was obvious that there had been a great disturbance to the usual overgrowth. A large pot that had obviously housed the rosemary had been knocked over on the patio, the broken plant giving off a beautifully strong odor. Dean frowned as he upended it again, replacing the damaged bush. He slightly groaned and withdrew his hand, wincing in apology to Rory as he showed the other two that there was blood on his fingertips.

"Call her phone, Rory, we need to see if there's any clues on it." Dean commanded, knowing that dwelling wouldn't help Ella. Rory complied and soon the tinny notes of the standard Razr ringtone began from nearby. Sam walked toward the noise, and picked up two objects.

"Dean. This looks like silver- and there's more blood." Sam walked up to his brother and Rory, showing a blade with an oddly-shaped hilt. "That's Ella's knife. Damn it." Rory exclaimed as Dean inspected it closer. "Your sister has a silver trench knife?" Dean asked, a bit shocked.

"What, like you don't have worse in the back of dat car? Just because we don't hunt doesn't mean we don't try to protect ourselves. We have a good idea of the type of things that are out there- both human and some of the other. A lone woman should always have something." She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a butterfly knife, "Silver as well." Replacing the piece, she took the knife from Dean. "I don't think that Ella knew what was around, but it looks like she was trying to set up protections when this happened. What do we do now? Shit! I have to call Papa and Maman."

"Let's finish looking around before we do, Rory." Dean stated and they started to pace around the yard. Almost as if he was led to it, Dean realized that he was soon standing in front of a large whole in the wooden fence, hidden behind bushes. A few bloody pieces of fabric were caught on the cracked wood. "Over here!" he called out and pulled the evidence free. As the sun had barely made it above the treetops, he brought the items back to the mudroom, where Rory quickly turned on the light.

Grabbing the pieces of the cloth, she frowned. "Ella would never have something like this on- she hates pink- but the other large bit, that's a shirt she likes to wear." Spreading out the pink scrap, Sam stated, "This seems to have a pattern, but I can't tell what it is."

Dean nodded and pressed his lips together in deep thought. "I think you're right, but I also think that it doesn't give us a ton to go off of yet. I think that we need to visit her office. Maybe something or someone can help us retrace where she was recently."

"Good idea- after I make my phone call." Rory flipped open her cell and began dialing. She pushed the button for speaker and looked up in surprise as she noticed Sam and Dean leaving the room. "Oh, I don't think so, chers. You're staying. Plus, Maman probably misses hearing from Dean. She mentions him a lot." Rory gave a sarcastic roll of her eyes but straightened up as a deep English voice came over the phone, "Rory? Isa! It's Rory on the phone! Rory, love, did you find our girl?"

"Not yet, Papa. But I…" Heavy breathing and swishing fabric was heard over the line. "Rory? Rory, is Ella okay?" Isa's usually mellow Creole accent had a noticeable strain to it. "Non, Maman, we can't find her. But I have Sam and Dean here with me. They're on speaker, too." Rory became emotional and motioned for the boys to say hello. After their greetings, Isa replied, "It's makin' my heart a bit lighter knowing you both are there. Eti and I have arranged a flight to Indianapolis for late tonight- it was dey first flight anywhere close dat we could get, but I'm less worried knowin' there are three of yous dere instead of just Rory."

"Could one of you tell me what you've managed to find so far?" her dad interrupted, bringing the conversation back on track. Rory was busy wiping a tear and so Dean spoke on her behalf. After recapping their discoveries, he looked to his brother who nodded confirmation that he had covered all the details.

"Rory, I had just talked wit her yesterday. Let me see. She had said that she was going to some research group dinner or some'ting for da office. She didn't seem excited at all- in fact she mentioned dat she would be spending the night 'avoiding one or more of the post-docs and attempting to talk real research instead of faculty politics', as she called it. She said that there was one dat always wanted to get her to work on his project in Asia, and one dat has a weird partner that creeps her out. Perhaps y'all should start dere wit the dinner guests. And do talk to Dr. Simer- her supervisor. He was hosting. But she you said was usin' de brick dust? That's not like her if she just thought it was a weird person."

"This Dr. Simer was trying to get her to meet up after," Dean interjected, holding up Ella's phone. "She got an urgent text at 11:30 asking if she could call him as soon as she read it. It looks like she did, right before midnight. Dr. Simer, looks like we're gonna have us a chat."

* * *

They said their goodbyes to Rory's parents and quickly secured the house. Rory again gave Dean directions and soon enough they pulled into the large drive on the campus mall and parked in front of a rather dull building. Rory walked up to the third floor and confidently strode down the hallway, stopping in front of a door with Minerva's name on the plate. She pulled out a key from her purse and unlocked the door.

"Ella also has a desk in here. Nobody else will share with Minerva, and dey had limited space. Ella only needs a desk for her laptop; the rest of her work is at home. I visited here a few times, but it's just kinda boring without Minerva here. I borrowed Minerva's office key from the house."

Inside the office, the boys could barely believe that so many books could exist in one small room. Not only were there piles of books filling every one of the many bookshelves, but a maze of stacked old volumes was only broken by the existence of one larger wooden desk and a slightly smaller desk near the window. A single succulent plant balanced on the metal sill.

As Sam walked over to Ella's desk and started her laptop, Dean perused Minerva's desk, wincing as the floor groaned at the extra weight of his steps on the already taxed supports. "I can see why the old gal wasn't top of the list for office mates. I'm getting claustrophobic just being here." He picked up a few pieces of paper and read through them. "It shows here that the school had originally chosen Minerva to run the research group. Looks like Dr. Simer had a thing or two to say about it, but academics weren't the issue." He held up a sheet. "Dr. Simer had requested that Ella's internship be transferred to his supervision, but Minerva refused. And then there is this from the dean, dated two days later: 'Dr. Sander, I believe that it is in the best interests of the department that your intern transfer and assist with the creation of the research group's primary project which will now be directed by Dr. Simer, with your updated position title as consulting faculty. There will be no negative adjustments to the compensation agreement we previously negotiated and as a consolation I have managed to secure the fellowship for you for this summer with the French department of cultural preservation in Epinal...' It continues on, but my gut says that it looks like someone managed to get Minerva out of the way and Ella on this project. Rory, what do you know?"

"I know dat Ella was upset she wasn't going to be able to work with Minerva, but she needed the internship this summer as a part of her degree requirements. She said dat she keeps her distance from the other interns and students, which I found weird for her to do. Ella didn't talk much 'bout her colleagues here- I don't think that she likes them much, and she's very focused on her goals of finishing the internship as quickly as she can. She also was frustrated dat the research group didn't allow her to stay with her specific region of study with the primary project change, but it's an interdisciplinary and multi-university research group initiative, so it's not uncommon to change and the internship was very competitive to get. I think that only a few non-doctoral students were allowed. Ella here, one guy from MIT, and one in Scotland- I think? I did find it strange that she chose to work three twelve to fifteen hour days down here so she could come home each week instead of staying down here the whole summer to focus on this work. But in the end, I missed her and can always use her help in the store, therefore I didn't dig deep. Now, I wish I had." She plopped herself down on the edge of Ella's desk and watched as Sam was able to access the laptop. "I'm not even going to ask how you were able to unlock her work computer, cher. I'll let Ella yell at ya for dat once we get her back."

"She didn't even have a passcode lock active. It's like she was interrupted quickly and didn't close it all the way," Sam commented. "It looks like she was coordinating access to religious texts across Europe, but I don't see anything threatening- does Ella speak french?"

"Oui, cher. And a bit of spanish and italian. Maman wanted us to at least learn french, so we could visit Africa and Haiti with her and papa more easily. It was also a safer skill for Ella to learn. But that this is all from her initial research proposal- not what she was on now. She was lamenting becoming a glorified assistant to one of the faculty here and not getting research experience. So, if there isn't anything here that is really sticking out, I suppose we should find Dr. Simer." She hopped off the desk and walked to the door.

"Hold up. She has a folder here that is unlabeled that she was trying to attach to an email. It wasn't sent and there's no recipient listed yet, but she writes that it's to a "Dr. B.A." and she wanted him to safeguard it." Sam clicked a few more times. "Son of a… She's been documenting someone on the project who tried to come on to her- several times- and then used that try to get her up to research off "primary goals". Sleazeball freak." He frowned as he closed the laptop, taking the machine and its cord in his arms.

Dean's eyes and posture had hardened as his brother spoke. "Who?"

"I don't know- she's redacted names and said that this "Dr. B.A." already knows. I can take a deeper look later. Let's go and get any talks in with faculty before classes start up."

They made their way down the hall to another door, which this time was propped open. "Dr. Simer?" Rory asked as she softly knocked.

Soon the door opened fully to reveal a middle-aged man who smiled at her without deep recognition. "Yes? Office hours don't start for another hour or so."

"Dr. Simer, I'm Rory Ladeau, Ella's sister. I'm here visiting and I'm having a hard time finding her this morning. Do you know where she might be?"

"Ella? Is she a student of mine?"

"No. Ella Whitney. She's on your project? She uses Minerva's office?"

"Ah! Whitney! Haven't seen her since last night. She seemed to have gotten the attention of more than one of the postdocs and the donors, if you know what I mean. I'm sure she'll be making her way home once she wakes up." He gave a tight smile and attempted to close the door, but Rory's foot blocked that.

"You listen here, my sister doesn't do dat. She's no slut." Rory's voice rose in indignation. Dean nodded to Sam, who placed his hand on her upper arm and pulled her back slightly.

"What she means is that it's highly unlikely that Ella would be so unprofessional. Did you contact her last night after this dinner by any chance?" Dean gave the man his kind smile, attempting to alleviate the tension.

"I couldn't. My phone was stolen from my car earlier that day. I have to cough up the money for a replacement today. Besides, why would I need Whitney? She's on Dr. Aost's project now." Dr. Simer seemed both confused and annoyed. "You'll have to talk to him or that outrageous assistant of his. I think I saw his other private research assistant this morning in their lab in the history building."

"I thought Ella was on your project." Dean stated.

"No, I had her, but then I needed to make a change." Dr. Simer became tightlipped and stepped back into this office. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a phone to purchase."

As if on cue, the trio noticed a figure exit the office next door and completely ignored the trio, rousing suspicions. Rory stepped forward as if to stop them, but Sam's hand that was still on her arm stopped that. Dean motioned for silence and they all began to slowly stalk their target. They continued down to the basement of the building, past dark windows labelled as labs for various faculty. A single light glowed from an isolated hallway, and the figure quickly entered.

The trio managed to fit themselves around the small window in the metal door and peered in, Rory gasping as she pointed to an old hospital screen drape hanging from the ceiling. The tips of black Doc Marten boots were visible, as was the glare of the light off of a small pool of fresh blood. "Dat's Ella."

As Dean reached into the back of his waistband and pulled his pistol, the figure turned, revealing a short Indian woman. For just a moment, her eyes hit the light and Sam inhaled sharply as the woman's pupils narrowed to resemble a snake's. "Vetala," he whispered to his brother. Dean nodded and returned his gun to his belt while Sam withdrew a knife from his boot.

Sam placed his hand on the doorknob, but his hand was quickly covered by his brother. Dean silently shook his head and motioned towards them to retreat to a nearby nook. Rory reluctantly let herself be pulled away.

"Dean, Ella's in there. We need to get her," Rory softly pleaded.

"I know, but there's another one." At this, Sam's head shot up, confused. "Sammy, trust me. They pair up. I took out two when you were at Stanford. We need to wait to see who the other is, or Ella will be stalked forever." At this, Rory whimpered. "I'm also gonna need your knife, honey," Dean said as he held out his hand. "The only way to kill them is silver blade to the heart. Sammy and I can do the killing. You help your sister."

As they watched the door carefully and listened, they could hear a muffled voice on the phone. "Do not worry, we will take care of them... Yes. On the way to the other lab now... I was not followed. Once they are gone, we will finish her and nobody will know… Yes, stupid to pick her, I agree. A large mess to clean."

Not long after, the soft footsteps of Dr. Simer hurried past the trio's hidden forms. "Simer, that asshole." They creeped back to the door and Dean slowly pulled the handle down, allowing the latch to move. "Sam, take the woman, I've got the lying S.O.B." They burst into the space, a hiss sounding from the female as Sam ran up to her. Dean wielded the knife and was shocked to see the female ignore Sam and leap between Simer and the knife, impaling herself upon the blade and shrivelling into dust. Dean withdrew the blade and just stared at Simer for a long moment before continuing his pursuit.

"Ruchi! No!" Simer cried and cowered in front of Dean.

"Jesus, at least fight me, you freaking lizard," Dean taunted, "Or are you too sad that your girlfriend just bit the dust for you- literally."

"You know not what you are talking of. She wasn't my girlfriend, but my slave. Bound to me after I proved worthy. Do you know how hard that is to do? To earn a vetala's obedience?" Simer seethed, before reaching behind and grabbing what appeared to be a human femur. He attempted to swing haphazardly at Dean, who feinted left before coming up with his right and stabbing the doctor in the chest. Unlike Ruchi, Dr. Simer's body remained whole as he slumped down to the floor.

"Son of a bitch! He's not vetala," Dean exclaimed. "But still evil. We gotta get Ella and secure ourselves. Sammy, keep watch." He ran over to Rory, who was working through her tears to attempt to free her unresponsive sister.

"I think she's breathing. She has to be breathing." Rory continued to chant as Ella's arms were finally released. Rory's hands moved to the gag in her mouth, pulling the pink fabric down around her neck and patting her cheek. "Ella? Ella! Wake up!"

"No time," Dean stated as he pushed Rory to the side and scooped up Ella's limp body. As he shifted her into his arms so that her head was supported on his right shoulder and her knees bent over his left forearm, an audible static shock snapped and his body jerked in response. "We have to get moving and get her safe. There's another one, and it will follow. Sam, get the doctor and put him in that rolling trash tote we were by. Rory, grab my car and pull it around to the dock behind the building. We need to do with without being seen. Keys are in the coat pocket."

The other two sprung into action; Rory fishing out keys and Sam sprinting down the hall. As Dean waited for them, he looked down and took in Ella's face. She was so pale, and despite the forming bruises and blood, he still was struck by her unconventional beauty. She felt light in his arms and he wondered how it was possible for her to seem so easy to hold but still display rounded curves. Realizing what he was now staring at, Dean shook his head and focused again on her face, leaning down and whispering in her ear, "We've got ya, sweetheart. You're safe."

"Dean," Sam called as he pushed the tote into the room. "I found some bags. Are we just going to dump him in the tote?"

"No. We need to dispose of him like we'd do any other monster. Bag him and put him in the truck for now. We need time to think. The other vetala is going to come for us and be pissed off to boot."

Sam's expression turned grim as he lifted the small man into the bagged tote. "He was a bad guy, Dean. You didn't know."

"I know that, Sammy, and to be honest I'm not that upset about it right now. Let's also see if we can clean that up." He motioned to the floor. "What is this, some bone lab?" Carefully walking over, he inspected the remains upon the table. "This is why I'm cool with a GED. This shit's for weird people." Turning to a nearby set of shelves, he read the labels. "Bingo! Sammy, there's acid here."

Sam procured the gallon and carefully poured it over the small puddle and splatter where Dr. Simer had lain. "Okay, I think we're good to move."

Dean again checked on his charge, content that he was able to feel the expanding of her ribs in his hold with each breath she took, was concerned by the shivers he could also feel wracking her body. She was either cold, in shock, or both- in her condition, he knew that none of it was good.

They met with Rory minutes later, Dean gently placing Ella into the back seat and quickly stripping off his jacket and flannel to cover her with. Rory eased into the opposite side, brushing her sister's hair back and murmuring assurances. After they transferred the trash bag into the truck, both brothers slid into Baby and the black Impala drove off, mostly undetected by the distracted students hurrying off to class.

* * *

Having no better plan, they headed back to Minerva's house. They brought Ella inside, where Dean laid her upon the bed. Sam had had the foresight to pull their own first aid kit from the back before Simer's body made that impossible, and he handed it to Rory, apologizing for the lack of professional supplies. She smiled and told him that he could make do.

Dean had immediately left the room, his mind still solely focused on the fact that Ella's life was still in danger. He went to the mudroom and retrieved her trench knife, smiling a moment as he tested the grip. He then stalked the perimeter of the interior of the house, closing blinds and drapes as he went before returning to Ella's room. Sam stood sentry over Rory, his own silver blade ready and as his brother entered, he turned and focused his attention at the large window that oversaw the backyard.

"Shit!" Rory exclaimed as she had taken a washcloth to dampen and release the hair that had matted to the dried blood on her sister's face and neck. "She was bitten." Her eyes were huge and looked at Dean in fear.

"Vetala aren't like vamps. They only suck their victim's blood and knock 'em out. Ella's probably got some blood loss and she's roofied by their saliva, apart from any other injuries. Do you need help?" He stepped closer, his hand unconsciously hovering over Ella's as if to give comfort, but he paused and withdrew.

"She feels so cold…" Rory whispered as she softly drew the cloth against her face. "We need to get her warm, and quickly, so we can get her to drink some juice as soon as she wakes up. I can only think that a hot bath or shower would help her best. Are you willing?"

"I don't jump into showers with unwilling women," Dean stated, shaking his head. "That would make for a real uncomfortable time."

Rory snorted. "Clothes would be covering things, Dean. Keep your boxers on."

Dean gave her his trademark grin as he peeled off his shirt. "You say that as if I'm wearing any." Sam strangled a laugh behind them. "You're right, she needs to warm up. I can handle going commando after this if it helps." He quickly undressed to his boxer briefs and laid his clothes upon the dresser as Rory untied Ella's shoes, removed her socks and pulled the remnants of her torn overshirt away from the grey tank top underneath. "She can stay in dis camisole and shorts. She's always been modest."

Dean walked to the bed and carefully picked her up, barely noting the tingle that he felt as their skin touched. The three made their way to the bathroom, Sam keeping himself at the doorway with a knife in hand. Rory started the shower as Dean cradled Ella in his arms, inspecting what he could and making low sounds in his throat as he came across each bruise and scrape. Rory stepped to the side and Dean carefully made his way over the tub enclosure and allowed the warm spray to hit Ella's torso.

After a minute or two, he shifted so that Rory could carefully slide a washcloth over her, trying to remove the last of the dirt and blood. She frowned and left the room a moment, returning with a small bar of soap. Dean tensed as he recognized the scent and with a woman in his arms, he was already fighting his body's response.

"Um, Rory. I don't think this is the time for a deep clean. She could get slippery and fall, ya know?" Dean quickly stated and closed his eyes in relief as she nodded her head and set the bar down. He then shifted to place Ella's head under the stream, her thick hair saturating with warm water and those sodden tendrils attaching themselves to his bicep like auburn tentacles. As he watched her hair darken and the blood finally removing itself from her pale skin, his gaze went to her face and he was surprised to find her eyes wide open in shock.

"Hey, sweetheart…" he whispered.

* * *

 ** _Sorry, y'all. I don't have a beta and I'm rushing to get these posted. If there are any issues, just message me and I will check out it out. Thanks for your patience!_**


	6. Chapter 6: Dazed and Confused

Ramble On - Chapter 6: Dazed and Confused

West Lafayette, Indiana

It had been hours- hours since Ella had stared into his eyes then again passed out cold. Dean paced the hallway as they waited for either Ella to wake or the attack to come. The house remained a silent shelter, save for the hushed tones of Sam and Rory in the guest room as they kept watch over her sister.

"I just don't know, cher. Shouldn't we take her somewhere? She's warm and dry, but hasn't moved an inch since the shower," Rory asked Sam as she felt her sister's pulse again.

"The hospital is less safe than here, Rory, even if she is in a bit of shock. I'm sorry," Sam told her as he put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We can't keep things secure there, and they'll ask too many questions. She's not bleeding now and she did wake for a moment- both are good signs. Hey, Dean? Perhaps we should start to make a plan…" His idea was interrupted by a series of sharp knocks to the front door. Dean poked his head into the bedroom and motioned to his brother to stay put before disappearing again.

Dean readied a knife as he approached the foyer, his face setting into a determined scowl as another set of knocks - louder and flat this time - hit the door. He slowly turned the bolt, hoping that the noise of the slide wouldn't signal his presence and pulled the door open. As he peered out, his nose became up close and personal with a large, dark fist. While not the first time he had been in the path of a set of knuckles, this time he was relieved that the fingers stopped before making an impact. That thought was quickly paused as slim arms darted out to grab at his body.

"Dean!" he was pulled into a quick embrace and had both cheeks bussed before he could assemble a basic hello to Isa, who had ducked under the man's arm to greet him. Stepping back, the door opened fully to reveal Isa and a tall, muscular man. "Eti, dis is Dean, John Winchester's boy. Dean, where are my girls? Is Ella awake? What happened?"

"Breathe, love. Let's get inside first. From that knife in his hand, I'm assuming there's still a threat, yeah?" Etienne stooped to grab the two large bags and stepped inside, making his way towards the living room.

Dean secured the door and followed the couple, finally finding his voice. "It's, uh, nice to meet you, sir. I've heard some about you. And yeah, we've got an issue still. This morning we killed a vetala who had your daughter captive- on the orders of Dr. Simer."

Both paused in their tracks. "A vetala? Truly?" Etienne asked as he looked over Dean. "If you've killed it, what is the threat? Is that bastard doctor still after her?"

Dean flushed. "Ah, no, sir. Dr. Simer's in my trunk. He...didn't make it," he steeled his resolve and stared the older man right in the face, prepared for the fallout of having taken the life of a human. Etienne's eyebrows lifted high, but Dean was surprised to see him nod slowly in approval.

"I hate to say it, but good. I'm sure you didn't have a choice, Dean." Isa said before frowning. "If you killed a vetala and Dr. Simer is gone, what's de issue?"

"Vetalas come in pairs- trust me on this- but we don't know who or where the other one is just yet. It will be pissed that we killed its partner. We're holing up here waiting for Ella to wake again. We felt this was the best option. Here, let me take you back."

Dean led the pair to the guest room where Rory quickly embraced her mother. "Maman, she's not woken up except for a moment. I didn't know what else to do." All three turned towards the bed, Isa slowly stroking Ella's cheek and checking her forehead.

"She is healing, Rory. Her body is doing what it must right now." Isa looked up to Sam with watery eyes. "Thank you, both you and Dean, for being here."

Sam gave her a grin and a short nod. "Madame Ladeau, I'm sorry that we are meeting like this, but I'm glad that we were already using your daughters' hospitality and were close enough to help."

"Well, with you both here, I think that it's time for me to go and hunt this thing. Sam, you need to stay to watch over them, 'kay?" Dean stepped out of the room and walked towards the kitchen where their bag sat. He tucked Ella's silver knife back into his belt and began to pick out another blade before retrieving his gun.

"I'm going with you, Dean" the baritone accent sounded behind him. Dean stiffened and began to shake his head before turning to find Etienne standing behind him, a large knife in his hand.

"Sir, these vetala are dangerous and quick. I'd hate for you to get hu…"

"Don't start with me, son. It's not been that long since I was hunting myself," Etienne stated firmly before expertly flipping the knife in his hand. "How do you think I know your dad?"

* * *

Even after some time together in the car and their mutual goal, Dean still felt tension between himself and Etienne. Though the older man obviously had not been lying about his abilities and they partnered well together, Dean felt as if he was being judged and found lacking. As they had placed Simer into a freshly re-dug grave, Dean had quipped that he hoped Mrs. Klempf, the woman buried today, didn't mind sharing a plot. He had been met with Etienne's blank stare which caused Dean to brusquely return to shovelling dirt.

As they finished tamping down the soil, Dean commented, "I swear, sir, I didn't know that he wasn't a vetala when I stabbed him.".

"I know." Dean felt the weight of the silence after the simple reply.

"Then what have I done that you disprove of? Or do you just dislike Winchesters in general? I know many who do, but after meeting your wife, I'd have hoped different."

Etienne stuck the shovel in the nearby grass and took a sip from a bottle of water. "It's neither, son. I do appreciate that you were there for my daughter, and my wife down in N'awlins. But there's a reason why I gave up hunting once we had Ella. Even though Isa has the store, her craft doesn't place her in the path of danger often. For the past two decades, my worries for my girls focused more on them getting their hearts, and mostly in Ella's case a bone, broken. I'm angry that I let that guard down. We encouraged each of them to pursue interests and as I attended more dance recitals and spent hours in the back garden, thoughts of them hunting faded away, as did my push to keep their ability to defend themselves sharp. God, I haven't even sparred with Ella in years. Sure, she can defend herself against some drunk college boy, but anything more? She doesn't have that level of skill because I stopped pushing her into training and let her be the sweet, creative, intelligent angel she is. If I had pushed, would she be unconscious in that bed right now? Would this monster have ever crossed her path if we hadn't readily supported them moving up to the big city and Ella wanting to follow in her first father's steps as a professor? Isa will admonish me for this regret, but lying in that bedroom is my baby girl and I will not stop until I see this monster dead. So as they say, 'It's not you, it's me.' Unless you _are_ planning on hurting my girls, then you can consider yourself on my list."

"Uh no, sir. That's not in my plan- not at all," Dean promised as he finished the last bit of shovelling clean up. Looking at the darkening sky, he nodded his head, "Let's go find us a vetala, then."

* * *

As the two men parked back on campus, Dean asked Etienne where he would like to start. "Show me first where my Ella was, then we can go to the bastard's office," Etienne replied and pulled out a small, leather-wrapped lockpicking kit. Dean raised an eyebrow before taking the lead towards the back of the building. Thankfully, the exterior doors were still unlocked, which seemed unusual for that time of night in the summer, but Dean shrugged and held the door for Etienne.

They made their way downstairs to the basement labs, their footsteps quietly echoing in the empty hallways. A light from a window reflected upon the waxed tile and Dean realized the light was coming from the exact lab they were needing to enter. He taped Etienne's arm, giving him a silent point towards the door. Etienne nodded and drew his knife at the same time Dean did, both positioning themselves on either side of the door frame. Dean slowly peeked into the space and found it empty. As he reached for the door handle, he realized that there was a set of keys still in the lock, forgotten. He bypassed the keys and slowly turned the knob, opening the door. As Dean entered, he immediately turned to the right as Etienne turned to the left, both men in sync as if they had been hunting together for years.

A search of the room showed that there was no living creature present, but it was obvious that someone had been in the space recently and had been angry. The usually organized space was a disaster of broken glass and bleached bones. The chair that Ella had been bound to was thrown across the room and dangling haphazardly off of a shelving unit. There was a strong chemical smell that had both men's eyes burning. After only a few minutes, Etienne turned to Dean, "I take it this is not how you usually leave things?" That effort caused him to cough. "Come, let's go before this burns my lungs out."

Dean nodded and headed for the door, looking down and taking the set of keys from the lock. "Do you think it left quickly and forgot these? From the wetness of the floor, whoever was here was here recently and ran out."

Etienne turned and quickly lost his footing, falling on his back with a hiss. "Speaking of the floor, look at that," Etienne grunted as he pointed down the hallway, away from where they had approached, "These chemicals are eating at the wax. Once I get my arse off this tile, let's follow, yeah?"

The dim lighting of the closed building actually provided excellent ability to see the damaged floor as Dean and Etienne tracked up several flights of stairs and back to the Anthropology department. While the tracks faded completely at the top of the stairs, Dean was not surprised to be returning to this area. What did surprise him was that four office doors had been kicked open.

"Well, that one is Dr. Simer's office, and that one the other vetala came out of- I think," Dean told Etienne as he pointed, "That's Ella and Minerva's office, and I don't know this one." He approached the door and looked in, seeing a usual professor's office, though the bookshelves seemed to have an empty shelf. Dean reached into his pocket and took out his flip phone, taking a few pictures of the space. Upon the desk, he saw a nameplate, "This belongs to a Dr. Rehgraf, has Ella even mentioned them?"

"I overheard her telling Isa and Rory about him more than once. He's quite knowledgeable in his field and apparently, attractive. But he researches political structures in South America or something like that, so they never directly worked together. Ella is very focused on European folklore, which is why she wanted to work with Minerva this summer."

"Folklore? I thought it was religious semis or something like that," Dean said as they walked to Minerva's office. He looked around for movement, but still saw nothing in the hallway.

"Semiotics. Ella says it is signs, symbols, and how they get interpreted. She prefers that term so she doesn't seem like someone who just loves fairy tales. She studies how the stories and symbols from them have impacted culture. But she also knows that it's likely that some of them are quite true, which is right funny now that I consider it. Here I am trying to give her a life without hunting and she can probably name more monsters in Europe than I can even though I was raised to hunt there."

They made their way through Minerva's maze of books and Dean instantly felt like something was off. He walked to Ella's desk and saw that every drawer had been pulled out and rifled through- he remembered that Ella didn't have much in her area to begin with and Sam had taken her laptop home. He looked over to Minerva's desk and it seemed to be untouched. "I wonder if what this thing was looking for is exactly what Sam brought to Minerva's place. Ella seems to have kept everything on her laptop. Let's see the other offices and then make a plan."

Simer's office was tidy, except for obvious places where items had been taken, both off of the dusty bookshelves and via a few open desk drawers. "Dean, look at what is not here- in the Personnel folder for this group- I see Minerva and Simer, a few others who I've never heard of, some grad who I assume is the one in Scotland, but not Ella or the faculty member she was assisting."

Dean nodded and pulled a file that had been stuffed into Minerva's folder. "This one was hidden, it's the other vetala we killed this morning. Ruchi Mandale. Apparently she was a research assistant for Dr. Aost? Wait, that was the same guy who Ella worked for right? DIdn't Isa say there was another one who was a bit too friendly?"

"Yeah, and my Ella was none too happy to have to change. T'was bad enough that she couldn't work at least within her region of focus with Minerva, but then she was placed in Aost's group, which I think was Asia? I hadn't been able to talk to her much about it. Anyway, I think this needs to come with us for now." Etienne grabbed all the personnel files and paused, "Did you hear something?"

Dean twisted his head towards the door, "Someone's coming, but slow. Security? Shit." Sounds of boots on stairs grew louder and the two men quickly turned off the light and slipped out the door. Despite their size, neither made a significant amount of noise as they quickly, but softly, padded down the opposite hallway and down the stairs towards the Impala.

Driving away from the campus, Dean began to take the route to Minerva's house. Etienne tapped his arm to get him to pull over as he also took out his cell. "'Ello, love. No, it's not finished, but I think it's after 8- time enough to regroup and eat dinner, yeah? We're fine. I damaged my pride and my back's not the happiest, but it will hold. Dean and I will bring something to eat, not a worry. See you soon." He closed the phone and sighed, "We have to assume that whoever it is knows that we know about them and likely are in hiding. There's not much more to investigate tonight, mate. But there are things we can do, and taking care of family is the best option for the minute. Now, I don't know about you, but I don't get to have classic American food too often and when I visited here last fall with Ella, we found this amazing diner with a cheeky name and great burgers. Sounds good?"

* * *

"Man, I have had a lot of bacon cheeseburgers in my time, but never one with peanut butter on it! I feel like it's a whole new food group!" Dean happily chewed and followed up with a swig of fresh-brewed root beer out of a bottle that only had three Xs on label. His eyes rolled back in his head in ecstasy, "And from a place that sounds like it's a porno instead of a restaurant!" Rory and Isa shared a smirk at that and Sam just shook his head. Etienne laughed, "I heard that there's also a bar here that's a chocolate shop."

"Once you are done enjoying yourself so much over dere, Dean, we should talk about what you found today. But do take your time, it's not often dat I have seen you smile." Isa placed her hand on Etienne's sore back and rubbed lightly. Her gaze caught Sam's face and she asked, "What's wrong, cher?"

"Oh, no- nothing's wrong. It's just that this- this is nice. When we're on a case, it's usually the focus and for once, I don't feel like I'm wasting time just by sitting down and talking to other people."

"Dat's what a family does, Sam, hunters or no. Even when my Eti was hunting, we made time for each other. Dat's what keeps us reminded of da things we're fighting for. So, welcome to our family, Sam. Sit down and stay awhile." She winked and sipped on her water.

Suddenly a thud came from down the hallway. Dean was already halfway to the sound with a knife ready before the others could make it out of their seats and around the table. He barged into the room, ready to fight, but was met with a weak shout from the floor instead. "Stay back! Stay away from me!"

"Ella!" her mother cried as she made it past the other men and entered the room. "Ella, cher, you're okay. It's okay." Isa dropped to the floor next to her, but Dean remained still, staring at her frightened eyes. He slowly lowered the knife and stepped out of the room, allowing the rest of her family to crowd in. Once in the hallway, he leaned against the wall and released a shuddering sigh.

"You alright?" Sam asked him, worried and confused at the reaction. "She doesn't know you, you probably just scared the bejesus out of her."

Dean simply nodded and shook his head. "It's fine. Not like we need to be friends or anything. She just needs to be alive."

Sam merely nodded with a raised brow. "Sure."

After a few moments, Isa called for the brothers to join them. "Ella, our Winchester boys. Remember when Dean helped me at home? Dean and his brother, Sam. Dey's good men, Ella. Here to help."

Both Winchesters gave her smiles, though Dean's was tight. Ella looked down and murmured a soft, "Sorry."

Tension filled the air, but Sam was soon to end it. "Here, let me help you up," he stated as he walked over to her prone form. Dean followed suit and took her other hand. Her head instantly swiveled to stare at his face, yet his own gaze remained determinedly on her hand as the brothers lifted Ella enough for her to get her feet. They walked the slower pace on either side of her until the trio made it to the dining room, where Ella looked over the spread and smirked. "Is there some left for me?"

"Always, my girl!" Etienne stated from behind her as he moved around to take his own seat again, "And your favorite beer- root." The family once again started up with light banter and enjoying food, but a few at the table remained silent and hopeful that their quick side glances weren't being noticed by anyone- especially the target of said glance.

"Dean?" Etienne stated again, bringing him out of his thoughts, "I asked what you thought about for next steps." Dean cleared his throat with a long pull of his drink. "Uh yeah, that's what I was just considering- what I need right now." Ella, who had been better about keeping up to speed as the conversation had flowed, spoke up. "Me." Green eyes immediately snapped to stormy blue, "You need me."

Ella noted that his expression was an amusing mix of confusion, embarrassment, and ...attraction? "Excuse me?" he croaked. She exhaled a moment before looking at everyone about the table, "You all have said that there's another vetala and we have no idea where it is. So, how do you draw out a predator? You set bait- me." She looked straight at Dean, "You. Need. Me."

Everyone at the table paused for a moment and then chaos ensued. Isa was shaking her head, "Non, not gonna happen, ma fille." Etienne nodded with her, "Ella, love, you just got rescued- this is dangerous work." Sam shrugged, "Your parents are right, Ella, we can't guarantee your safety as bait, even though it's logical." Rory looked directly at her and shook her head, "I don't want you hurt more." Dean, however, considered her statement a moment longer and spoke after the rest, "I'll admit it's a great idea, but it sounds like a negative, Ghost Rider."

"I'm not requesting a flyby, Tower." Ella remarked, "And since we're quoting good movies, I'm going to state that nobody is going to put me in a corner, either. I understand all of your concerns, but if this gets us the other vetala and a lesser chance of someone else getting hurt, I choose to take that risk. I'm feeling better already; I told you this root beer was magical."

"Ella, what the hell? No. You should not do this," Rory exploded, "Your program has lost most of its faculty and will likely stop. Just come home. You will be harder to find in a big city."

"And what, Ror, always look over my shoulder for a vengeful monster? How is that any better? Who's to say that it won't target all of you to get to me? It's likely that it knows who I am if it was working with my colleagues- this isn't just some random thing that went bump in the night that came across me on some darkened path. What do you suggest, that I go into paranormal witness protection or something? No, thank you. I like being my real self. So, let's clean up and talk about who might be the other vetala," Ella returned with determination. As the others got up to clear away supper's remnants, Isa and Etienne shared a significant look that was missed by their family.

* * *

 **Sorry for the long wait - I'm going to try shorter chapters to help get more frequent updates!**


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